Tainted
by John Chandos
Summary: What was supposed to be the happiest day of his life was immediately turned upside down by one noble. Bitter and conscripted into the Grey Wardens, Darrian Tabris finds himself placed on a path that will change both his life and and all of Ferelden.
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's Note:**_ I felt I needed to place this here for one particular reason. Looking back, I find that the first two chapters of this fanfic are long. Almost ridiculously so, even though I tried to cut down on the content as much as humanly possible in the second chapter (unfortunately cutting a lot of the action out as well). Don't fret, though, as from chapter two onward, they should be moderately reduced in size, but this is just a small warning to all those who are reading. I just wanted to make sure that I at least got through the Origin story as quickly as I could while still being as thorough as possible.

Also, I understand that a vast majority of the first two chapters contains almost by-the-book in-game character conversation. This will be fixed later on, however, as the story will become more original and less canon from chapter 3 onward, this I promise. But until then, enjoy the story! (Those who review may be subject to an imaginary cookie as a reward... MAYBE.)

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age Origins, nor any of the plots or characters mentioned in the story aside from Darrian Tabris.

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"Wake up, Cousin!"

The ever-present, friendly - albeit slightly annoying - voice loudly awakens the Elf man lying in bed. He sat up slightly, long dark red hair flowing behind him slightly as he did so.

"Why are you still in bed? It's your big day!"

"What..." The Elf shook his head softly, turning to glance up into the eyes of his red-headed, female cousin.

"Why are you in my room, Shianni?" She merely chuckled at his confusion, staring down into his eyes, arms crossed with an amused look displayed upon her fair features.

"What, you're shy now? I sweet-talked your father into letting me share the good news... You do remember what today is, don't you, Darrian?" Darrian glanced down at the floor, deep in thought. For some odd reason, he just couldn't remember what the day held for him... According to Shianni, it was obviously important, but his memory seemed to fail him at the moment. Perhaps he shouldn't have tried that ale the other night after all...

Nevertheless, Darrian glanced back up at Shianni, a half-smirk taking over his face.

"Well, according to your breath, Shianni, it's get-drunk-before-noon day." Which was partially true, as he could indeed smell a slight stench of alcohol eminating from his cousin's position. Alcohol was the fiery redheaded Elven woman's one weakness, and her occasional drunken ramblings gave Darrian an almost endless supply of ammunition with which to tease her. Mercilessly.

Shianni sighed exasperatedly, rolling her eyes at him and pretending to look angry, though her eyes still retained obvious humor within them. Thankfully, she didn't take the jokes seriously as others often did.

"No, you idiot, you're getting married today! And Soris is, too! That's what I came here to tell you... Your bride, Nesiara, she's here early!" Darrian groaned loudly, falling back onto his pillow and covering his face with his hands as the memories began returning. His father had arranged the marriage between him and another Elf girl from the Alienage in Highever, further to the north. But the wedding had to be today?

After a few seconds of mentally cursing himself and his poor luck, Darrian finally spoke up again.

"I really, REALLY don't like the whole idea of this... Arranged match business." He said, dread oozing from every word.

"And just who else are you going to marry? Besides, I already snuck a peek... She's beautiful!" Darrian raised an eyebrow, trying to decide whether Shianni was actually telling the truth or merely just getting his hopes up in an attempt to play some sort of mean prank on him. He kept his silence as Shianni continued, gushing in a fashion similar to a princess who had just recently met Prince Charming himself.

"There's going to be traditional Elven music, decorations, feasting... Weddings are so much fun! You're so lucky, Cousin!" Darrian sighed loudly, sitting up and staring into Shianni's eyes, a retort already on the tip of his tongue.

"You're so enthusiastic about all this, maybe YOU should be the one getting married today. Not me." Shianni merely chuckled, waving him off.

"All in good time, Cousin. It's your day, not mine!" Try as he might, Darrian simply could not hold back the grin that spread across his face. The two sat there in silence for a moment before Shianni spoke up again.

"All right, I'll stop tormenting you... For now. I should probably go talk to the other bridesmaids and find my dress." She turned to leave, but glanced back at Darrian after a few steps.

"Oh, almost forgot. Soris said that he'll be waiting for you somewhere outside. So get a move on!" And with that, she was gone. Darrian got out of bed, walking over to the trunk situated on the other side of his bed and grabbing his wedding clothes from the confines within and tossing them onto his bed carelessly. The clothes were fashioned similarly to those that the human nobles wore. Needless to say, Elves only went out of their way to raise money and buy such things when important events such as weddings were taking place.

Putting on the puffy shirt and the pair of trousers, Darrian sat down in front of his mirror and began braiding his shoulder-length dark red hair in its usual fashion: braided around both sides of his head before going down in a straight line on the back of his head. Two long strands were left flowing down both sides of his face, giving him something of an Antivan look; or so he had been told by a few people in Denerim, at least.

Finally finished, Darrian stood and took one last look into the mirror. Despite wanting to sneak out of the marriage through any means possible, for some reason he couldn't help but feel as if these were going to be his last few hours as a free man. With a heavy sigh, Darrian closed his eyes and began walking into the living area, seeking his decent pair of boots. His father was waiting for him, sitting in his chair and reading a book of some sort. Upon noticing Darrian, Cyrion rose up from his chair, smiling from ear to ear as he strode across the room and swept his son up in a bonecrushing hug.

"Good morning, my son! It's your big day!" Cyrion released Darrian, who gasped for breath loudly, keeping his hands on his shoulders as he looked him over.

"How handsome you look in those fine clothes... Oh, how I wish your mother could have been here to see this day!" Darrian smiled, tugging at the uncomfortable collar of the almost ridiculously extravagant shirt. He would almost consider giving it to King Cailan Theirin, were it not for the fact that even that over-the-top royal bastard would likely laugh and toss it aside and the fact that he would likely never even get close enough to present the fool with such a gift.

Darrian's smile subsided as he began thinking of the wedding again.

"Look, Father, could we please talk about this arrangement for a moment or two?" Cyrion's smile also faltered slightly, but did not disappear completely.

"Still not pleased with it, I can see... Of course we can talk." Darrian shifted feet, continuing to look up into Cyrion's eyes.

"Do I really have to run off and get married, Father? So soon? I was still enjoying my independence..." Darrian trailed off.

"It's time for you to live your own life, my son. Unmarried, you are a child forever. And at any rate, the dowry has been paid, the Chantry has issued the permit, and everything is almost ready. All we need now is you and your cousin Soris." Cyrion replied. Darrian raised an eyebrow. His father had "bought" his bride?

"...You mean you paid a dowry for my bride? Truthfully?" He asked. Cyrion sighed wearily. The whole ordeal of getting everything ready seemed to have taken its toll on him.

"There's a lot more to arranging marriages than you think, my son. The biggest factor of all is deciding which spouse travels to which Alienage..." Darrian nodded.

"Yes, I believe I understand. One side gets new blood and a new face, but the other side loses a member of their community." Cyrion nodded, slightly impressed with his son's insight into the matter.

"Indeed... Which is why the dowry is traditional. It helps to even things out between the two communities."

"But I don't want to get married, Father." Cyrion laughed loudly at this.

"Ah, yes, I understand. Before I met Adaia, I was ready to go try to track down one of the Dalish tribes. Just be glad I chose the match for you. Without parents to represent you, children like your cousin Soris end up marrying whoever the Elder can find."

"So who did the Elder find for Soris?" Darrian asked, backing up a step or two and leaning against the wall. Cyrion shrugged.

"I dont know, I haven't met the girl. You should go see for yourself, if you're really curious." A pause.

"Well, it's time for you to go find Soris. The sooner this wedding starts, the less chance the two of you have to escape." Darrian smirked, shooting Cyrion a mischievous look.

"A small chance is still a chance, old man..." Cyrion chuckled at that.

"Ah, still have your mother's smart mouth, do you, young upstart? Oh, one more thing, before you go." Darrian grabbed the pair of his slightly decent boots, ones that had been completely covered in dust and grime yet.

"Yes, Father?" Darrian asked, sitting down in a chair and beginning to put his boots on.

"Your martial training... Swordplay, knives, bows, and Maker only knows what else your mother trained you in... It'd be best not to mention it to your betrothed."

"She'll find out about it sooner or later though, Father. That isn't something I can keep hidden for too long... Especially not in a place like Denerim." Darrian responded.

"Later. Definitely later. We don't want to seem like troublemakers here, after all... Adaia made that mistake." Darrian stopped pulling the boot up, a grim expression overtaking his features. His father never really spoke of his mother much after she died. Now, being older, he had little information about what she was truly like in person. To him, she had always been "Mother". Nothing more, nothing less.

"The humans who killed her made a bigger one." He said.

"Our world is full of so many injustices..." An uneasy silence engulfed the two. Cyrion walked out of the room, returning soon afterwards with a pair of leather boots, which he handed to Darrian. They were decorated with patterns of vines; obviously not standard-issue around Denerim.

"Your mother made these before you were born. She said we were going to give them to you on a special occasion... But I know she would have wanted you to have them, and I can think of no better time to give them to you than now. It's the very least I can give you as you start your new life." Another pause.

"Now, run along. I still have some things I must take care of, and Soris is no doubt waiting for you." And with that, Cyrion left the room, leaving Darrian alone with his thoughts. His grip tightened on the smooth leather for a moment, and he stared at them for a brief time before putting them on. They were much more comfortable than the shoes he typically wore, and they fit his feet perfectly, he noted. It was indeed a strange coincidence...

Exiting his home, Darrian could feel the warmth of the sun on his face once again. It was hot outside, almost unusually so, he noted. Elves were rushing about everywhere in the Alienage streets, putting the finishing touches on everything for the wedding. Dodging past well-wishers and other friends, Darrian finally found Soris, dressed similarly to himself, standing off to the side, away from everyone else.

"Hey, Soris!" Darrian greeted his cousin and best friend with a wide smile, which was mirrored by Soris.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't my lucky cousin. Care to celebrate the end of our independence together?" Darrian punched Soris in the arm playfully.

"Getting cold feet, Soris?" Soris raised an eyebrow, chuckling lightheartedly.

"Are you surprised at that? Apparently, your bride's a dream come true. Mine, on the other hand, sounds like a dying mouse." Darrian threw an arm over his cousin's shoulders.

"Ah, look on the bright side: you just might get a cage as a wedding present." This sent Soris into a much louder fit of laughter.

"Oh Maker, that's terrible! Ah, well, come on. Let's go introduce you to your dreamy betrothed before you say "I do"." Soris said.

It didn't take long to find them, as Shianni immediately began beckoning the two over as soon as she saw Darrian and Soris. What she didn't see, however, was the group of three humans walking up behind them. One of them grabbed one of the Elf girls rather inappropriately, who immediately began thrashing about in an attempt to escape.

"Let go of me! Stop, please!" Finally, she managed to break free, running forward and cowering down just behind Darrian and Soris.

"It's a party, isn't it? Grab a whore and have a good time." One of the humans laughed loudly; from the looks of things, he was obviously the leader of the pack of animals.

"Savor the hunt, boys. Take this little Elven wench, here... So young and vulnerable..." The human said, gesturing towards Shianni.

"Touch me and I'll gut you, you pig!" Shianni fired back. Maker, that woman had a tongue on her at times... She did indeed lack many social graces, but that was one of the things Darrian liked about her. She wasn't afraid to speak her mind.

Another Elf, however, wasn't nearly as brazen in his words.

"Please, my lord! We're celebrating weddings, here!" The human, obviously undeterred, merely strode up to the man.

"Silence, worm!" Was all he said before delivering a rather strong backhand to the man's face, knocking him to the ground. Darrian merely watched the scene, feeling anger welling up inside him. Soris walked up to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Look, I know what you're thinking, Cousin, but maybe we shouldn't get involved..." Darrian merely shrugged his hand off.

"Objection noted, now get out of my way, Soris. I won't let these humans abuse our women." Soris sighed in defeat.

"Fine. But let's at least try to be diplomatic, shall we?" Darrian began walking towards the human in the orange clothing. His ludicrously extravagant outfit identified him obviously as some sort of noble, and though Darrian was going to attempt to be "diplomatic", as Soris said, he knew deep in his heart that the only way the human would leave the Alienage would be if they ejected him by force.

The noble apparently recognized Darrian and Soris, as he began walking over to them, getting in Darrian's face. Darrian glared up at the human standing before him, no signs of intimidation on his face.

"What's this? The two grooms come to welcome me personally?" The man's breath reeked of alcohol; apparently he had had one or two before coming into the Alienage.

Undeterred, Darrian spoke up.

"You need to leave. At once." One of the humans behind the noble laughed at his words.

"Ha! You hear that, Vaughan?" The noble scoffed at Darrian's words as well.

"Do you have any idea who I am?" Darrian glanced over to the side, briefly noticing Shianni running off somewhere before returning his attention to the disgusting brat of a noble in front of him. Vaughan apparently saw the direction in which he looked, as he turned around to see just what was so interesting to the "pathetic knife-ear".

The sound of clay breaking into thousands of pieces echoed throughout the Alienage as Vaughan fell backwards, hitting the ground with a dull thud. Shianni was standing there, glaring at Vaughan and holding a piece of the broken jar she had used to bash his brains in with. Darrian glanced down impassively at the spoiled brat of a noble. He was out cold.

One of the humans that had accompanied Vaughan, a man dressed in red, came running up. He obviously didn't share the satisfaction Darrian was feeling after having watched his friend get his skull crushed by a woman. An ELVEN woman, at that.

"Are you people insane? This is Vaughan Urien, the Arl of Denerim's son!" He said. Shianni hid her face in her hands, the reality of what she had just done sinking in.

"W-what? Oh, Maker..." Darrian wasn't nearly as regretful as his cousin was.

"Well, maybe his high and mighty father should've taught him better manners... If he had, then we likely wouldn't be in this situation right now, now would we?" The two humans obviously weren't amused by his insult to both Vaughan and his father.

"Y-... You've got a lot of nerve, knife-ears! This'll go badly for you, I swear it!" Darrian merely made a "friendly" gesture with one of his fingers as the two humans carried their disgusting friend towards the Alienage gates.

"That's right, get outta here! You humans make my stomach sick!" He yelled after the human's retreating forms.

Shianni walked over to Darrian and Soris after the drama for the day was - hopefully - finished. She was staring down at the ground, apparently still in disbelief as to what she had done.

"Oh, I really messed up this time..." Darrian put and arm around her shoulders.

"Don't worry about it. You only did what I was about to do. That pig deserved it." He said. Soris nodded in agreement.

"Yeah. Besides, it's not like he's going to tell anyone an ELVEN woman took him down." Shianni still didn't seem to share in her cousin's optimism.

"I hope so... I should probably go get cleaned up." Shianni then left the two grooms alone for all of about two seconds.

"Is everybody else all right?" Soris asked the small crowd of Elves. One woman stepped forward, dressed in rather extravagant clothes... Though she was slightly on the homely side of things. Another stepped up as well, though she was very pretty. Shoulder-length blonde hair braided in a traditional Elven style with plenty of green eyeliner, and a very fair complexion.

"I think we're just a little shaken... What was that all about, anyway?" The first woman asked. Soris laughed, sounding somewhat nervous.

"Ah, looks like the Arl's son started drinking too early. That's all." A pause.

"Um, well, let's not let this ruin the day. Uh, this is Valora, my betrothed." Soris continued, gesturing toward the first woman who had spoken up. Darrian raised an eyebrow, turning towards the pretty Elven woman that had arrived.

"Oh? Then I suppose this beautiful vision must be Nesiara..." He mused, watching as a light blush overtook the young woman's features.

"I am lucky to finally see you with my own eyes. Father told me much about you, but I just had to see for myself..." Soris cleared his throat loudly, getting the attention of everyone there.

"I'm... sure the two of you have a lot to discuss." He said, bowing respectfully before walking off to the side with Valora and leaving Darrian and Nesiara alone. There was a brief moment of silence between the two.

"Well, here we are... Are you nervous?" Darrian gave Nesiara a warm smile. He was actually starting to come around to the whole idea of the arranged marriage, despite his strong feelings beforehand.

"I was... Until I saw you, that is. Now I can't wait to get started." Nesiara's eyes widened slightly, her blush growing a bit deeper.

"I... I'm speechless. I hope I'm worthy of your affection." She said. Darrian nodded.

"As do I." Before they could speak further, however, Soris spoke up again.

"Come on, Cousin. We should let these two get ready." Darrian was about to refuse, but finally just nodded. There would be plenty of time to talk after everything was done.

"We'll see you two in a bit. Don't disappear on us." Valora said.

"Or we'll hunt you down!" Nesiara said, laughing loudly. Darrian chuckled as well. It would likely happen if they did try.

"Er... Don't look now, but we have another problem." Soris said after Valora and Nesiara had disappeared into the crowd. Darrian walked over, seeing another human off in the distance. He had a scruffy black beard on him, with dark black hair pulled back into a ponytail. He had a longsword and a dagger sheathed on his back, and was wearing a strange set of armor, like none Darrian had ever seen before. Perhaps custom made for him.

"I wonder who he is..." Darrian mused. Soris shrugged.

"No clue. Could be one of Vaughan's or just a random troublemaker. At any rate, we should probably move him along before someone does something stupid." Darrian nodded.

"Right. Let's go talk to him and see what he wants." The two stepped around the Vhenadahl, walking up to the human. He bowed respectfully in front of Darrian and Soris.

"Good day. I understand congratulations are in order for your impending wedding." Darrian nodded, deciding to at least return a slight measure of respect.

"Thanks, but please go. I'd rather avoid any further... Unpleasantness." The human raised an eyebrow, looking slightly confused.

"What manner of "unpleasantness" might you be referring to?" He asked. Darrian shook his head.

"The Alienage just isn't a good place for humans to be. Especially not now. If you have business here then finish it and leave." He commanded.

"I'm sorry, but I have no intention of leaving." The human responded. Darrian's frown grew a bit deeper.

"Fine... Perhaps we can agree to compromise? Somehow, at least." He asked. The human nodded, apparently impressed with Darrian's bravery.

"He keeps his composure, even when facing down an unknown and armed human... A true gift, wouldn't you say, Valendrian?" Now it was Darrian's turn to look confused as the Elder came strolling over.

"I would say the world has far more use of those who know how to stay their blades. It is good to see you again, my old friend. It has been far too long." Valendrian said. Apparently the Elder knew this human... Somehow.

"You... You know this human, Elder?" Darrian asked. Valendrian nodded, motioning towards the human.

"May I present Duncan, head of the Grey Wardens here in Ferelden." Darrian raised an eyebrow. A Grey Warden? In the Alienage?

"Forgive me for sounding confused, but... Why would a Grey Warden be here in the Alienage, of all places?" Darrian asked.

"The worst has happened: a Blight has begun. King Cailan summons the Grey Wardens to Ostagar to fight the darkspawn horde alongside his armies." Duncan replied. Though that still didn't quite answer Darrian's question, he was still satisfied with the answer. For the moment, at least.

"Yes... I had heard the news. Still, this is an awkward time for such things. There is to be a wedding here... Two, in fact." Valendrian replied. Duncan nodded.

"So I see. Please, by all means, attend to your ceremonies. My concerns can wait, for now." Valendrian nodded.

"Very well. Children, treat Duncan as my guest. And for the Maker's sake, take your places!" Darrian glanced back at the stand, seeing that a few members of the crowd were motioning for him and Soris to hurry up and get up there.

"Please, do not let me interrupt further. We can speak more after this is finished." Duncan said, apparently figuring out what Darrian was thinking. Darrian grabbed Soris by the collar, hauling him off to the stand and taking his place beside Nesiara.

"Oh! Soris! There you are. I was afraid you'd run off..." Valora said. Soris chuckled slightly.

"No, no, I'm here, fellow groom in tow!" He replied.

"Good. I'm so pleased to finally do this!" Nesiara remarked, glancing over at Darrian somewhat shyly. Darrian looked over as the priest from the Chantry stepped up onto the podium.

"Well, it looks like everyone's ready." Soris remarked as the crowd settled down.

"So it seems. Good luck, Soris." Darrian remarked. Soris mirrored his smile.

"You too, Cousin. Maybe this won't be so bad after all." Valendrian stood up to give his speech to the Elves gathered around. Darrian merely turned his attention back to Nesiara, smiling dumbly as Valendrian droned on and on about Andraste and the freedom of the Elves and tradition.

Finally, the priest stepped up in front of the four betrothed.

"Thank you, Valendrian. Now, let us begin. In the name of the Maker, who brought us this world, and in whose name we say the Chant of Light, I-" Soris stopped the priest, pointing behind her. Darrian furrowed his brow. Stomping through the crowd of Elves was Vaughan and his friends, backed by a contigent of the town guards.

"Milord? This is... An unexpected surprise." The priest said softly.

"Sorry to interrupt, Mother, but I'm... Having a party, and we're dreadfully short on female guests." Vaughan said with a laugh as he stepped up onto the podium, standing behind Soris and Valora.

"Milord, this is a wedding!" The priest said, attempting to reason with the noble.

"Ha! If you want to dress up your pets and have tea parties, that's your business," Vaughan said, getting in the priest's face, "But don't pretend this is a proper wedding. Now," Vaughan turned towards his friends next, "We're here for a good time, aren't we, boys?" The one in the red shirt chuckled, sounding somewhat evil.

"Just a good time with the ladies, that's all." He said. Vaughan began pointing towards the ones he planned on taking.

"Let's take those two, the one in the tight dress, and..." He paused, looking about for someone in particular, "Wait... Where's the bitch that bottled me?"

"Over here, Lord Vaughan!" The other human said, grabbing hold of Shianni, who had been standing off to the side. She immediately began trying to free herself from his grasp.

"Hey! Let me go, you stuffed-shirt son of a-" Vaughan laughed loudly, cutting the fiery redhead off mid-profanity.

"Oh, I'll enjoy taming her. And see the pretty bride..." He said, motioning towards Nesiara, who unconsciously hid behind Darrian slightly.

"What do we do?" Soris asked. Darrian motioned towards Shianni, who was being dragged off to the side.

"Soris, they're taking Shianni! We have to-"

"Ah, yes... The uppity runt that thinks he's worthy of speaking to me." Again, Darrian found himself staring up into the eyes of Vaughan Urien.

"Oh, don't worry. I'll return whatever's left in time for the "honeymoon"." Vaughan said.

"You have no right to do this, bastard!" Darrian spat in his face.

"Ah, every time a knife-ear says that, it makes me smile..." Vaughan said, stepping back as one of his friends walked up.

"Back to the palace, boys!" Was all Darrian heard before a backhand came out of nowhere, knocking him flat on his ass and sending him into the realm of unconsciousness.


	2. Chapter 2

"...Hear me, Cousin?...all right?"

Slowly, Darrian's eyes began to flutter open. He found himself staring up into the sky, which was blocked slightly by a few branches of the Vhenadahl. Soris was by his side, looking slightly relieved. Darrian forced himself up to a sitting position, trying to ignore the pounding in his head. He covered his face with his hands, exhaling heavily.

"Oh, Maker... What... What happened?" Darrian asked, attempting to remember everything that had happened before. As with the wedding, however, his memory once again failed him. Soris grabbed his cousin by the arm, hauling him up to his feet.

"You took a pretty bad blow to the head, courtesy of Vaughan. Don't feel too special, though. They beat up a few of the others on their way out, too." Darrian shook his head softly, a grim expression on his face.

"This is no time for jokes, Soris. What happened? Is everyone else okay?" He asked, reprimanding his cousin for his poor taste of jokes.

"Vaughan took Shianni, Nesiara, Valora, and the rest of the bridesmaids in the wedding party back to the palace with him. The Elder is talking to Duncan, that Grey Warden from before. Everyone's getting upset." Darrian snorted at that remark, crossing his arms as he glanced over at the Vhenadahl. Sure enough, practically every Elf in the entire Alienage had gathered around its base.

"Well, I can't say I'm happy about this whole thing either... Come on. We should go see if we can help in any way." As Darrian said this, the Elves started arguing once again, though this time they were much louder than they were two seconds ago. Both Darrian and Soris cringed at their anger slightly.

"That sounded dangerous. You're right, we'd better go see what they're arguing about." Soris said. The two stepped off the platform they had been standing on, wading into the seemingly endless sea of Elves, gently pushing their way to the front of the group. In the middle of them stood Valendrian and Duncan, who were both trying to settle the angry mob down.

"Please, all of you, listen. I know you are upset, and with good reason... But there's nothing we can do right now." Valendrian spoke as loudly as he possibly could, his voice barely managing to carry itself over the roar of the crowd. They quieted down as he spoke, at least for a moment.

"He's right. Running after them will just make matters worse!" The mob's attention was soon turned to the woman who spoke up, the angry shouts starting up once again.

"So you say we're to do nothing? They took my sister!" Genuine concern for the woman that had spoken up flashed through Darrian's features. For a moment, he thought the mob was about to grab the woman and tear her to pieces right in front of the Elder.

"So let's do something! We should go after him!" Darrian spoke, turning the mob's attention to himself next. Thankfully, a crisis situation had been averted... For now.

Valendrian nodded, crossing his arms as he began to speak once again.

"Yes... Normally, I'd counsel patience in this matter. Unfortunately, stories about the Arl's son and his... Appetites... are most disturbing." Darrian raised an eyebrow feeling slightly sick to his stomach. The way Valendrian had worded his speech gave him a very unpleasant mental image.

He also felt slightly intrigued about these "stories". He hadn't been aware of them. It was likely because he had never paid much attention to the human aristocracy and their all-mighty "greatness", and, granted, Vaughan wasn't exactly "important" when it came to Fereldan politics, unlike figures such as King Cailan.

"...What kind of stories, Elder?" Darrian asked.

"Last year, the blacksmith's daughter had worked as a chambermaid in the Arl's palace. Local children found her washed up under the docks. She'd been..." Valendrian's face took on a bitter expression, like he had just downed a glass of vinegar, "Well... Vaughan had... Had his way with her." Darrian's eyes widened slightly. Valendrian had just confirmed his worst fears about the situation. Anxiety began building up in his heart, as well as a sense of dread. Something had to be done.

"The servants all said that Vaughan had his men bring her to his chambers..."

"When he was done with the girl, she was killed and... Desposed of. The garrison said she died later, but we all knew better." The two Elves that spoke up did little to quell Darrian's fear, nor the anger that was now building up within him.

"Vaughan has never been so bold before... But, with Arl Urien gone, who knows what he thinks he can get away with?" Valendrian continued.

"If he touches any of them, he's dead." Darrian said dangerously, netting himself a few glances from the crowd.

"I'm with you on that." Soris spoke as well, placing a hand on Darrian's shoulder as he stepped up next to his cousin.

"Please, both of you!" Darrian glanced up as his father stepped up into the middle of the crowd, "The focus must be on saving these poor women, not on revenge!"

"But what can we do? We're talking about the Arl's palace! Even with the Arl and the knights away, the place will still be guarded!" Another Elf argued. Another stepped forward, this one dark-skinned and dressed in a yellow tunic, like one a servant would wear.

"Elder, may I offer a suggestion?" At Valendrian's nod, he continued, "I work inside the Arl's palace. I could sneak one, perhaps two other people in through the servant's entrance. Nobody would notice an extra pair of Elves wandering around." Darrian felt a slight glimmer of hope rising up in his heart. Perhaps he could do something after all!

"That's a good idea... We could be in and out before anyone there knows the difference!"

"I'm with you, of course... But, if we run into trouble inside there, we won't be able to talk our way out of it." Darrian shook his head, shrugging Soris's hand off of his shoulder. "Trouble" from a few human guards was the last thing on his mind... Especially with Shianni and Nesiara being held captive.

"But for that, you will need weapons." Duncan, who had been relatively quiet during the entire ordeal, produced a longsword made of fine iron, as well as a crossbow. He held the sword out towards Darrian, handing the crossbow to Soris.

"Allow me to offer you my own longsword and bow... A man should be able to defend his loved ones properly." Darrian took the sword from Duncan's hand, uttering a prayer of thanks to the Maker as he felt the weight of the sword in his hands. It was heavy, but Adaia had trained Darrian to be a warrior, and thus he felt no apprehension about taking it. The sword was made of fine iron, and Darrian almost had to keep himself from whistling at the quality of it.

"Thank you, Duncan. You have no idea how much this will help... But you're a fighter yourself, obviously. Why don't you come with us?" Darrian asked. Duncan merely shook his head.

"I fear I cannot... Trust me when I say that my intervention would cause you more trouble than it would solve." Satisfied with the answer, Darrian gripped the hilt of the sword tightly. It was almost time to go.

"Then your path is set. I pray the Maker looks on it with favor." Valendrian said. Darrian and Soris bowed respectfully.

"You're all insane! The guards will burn our homes down around us!"

"Enough, Elva!" valendrian raised his voice slightly, quieting the dissenting Elf rather successfully, "You've had your say. They SHALL try. For their own honor and the honor of the women. We must trust in the Maker."

"I'll make sure the way is clear. When you're ready, meet me at the Alienage gate." Their guide said, leaving the crowd. Darrian turned back to Soris, who was busy tying the quiver filled with crossbow bolts to his back.

"Well, are you ready for what we're about to do, Soris?" Darrian asked. Soris nodded, finishing up.

"Ready and eager, Cousin. I'm right behind you." Darrian smirked, walking off towards the gate.

"Good... Then let's kill some human scum."

Soris paled slightly at that comment.

Darrian found the servant from before waiting for them, leaned up against the gate.

"There you are. I sent word ahead to get the servant's entrance unlocked. Are you both ready to go?" He asked. Darrian nodded.

"Yes... But wait, shouldn't we find a change of clothes, first? Soris and I don't exactly have the whole "servant's look" going on right now..."

"Don't worry, I've got some uniforms. You two can change on the way."

Some time later...

Darrian tugged at the collar of his "new" attire as he, Soris, and the servant walked through the servant's entrance of the Arl of Denerim's palace. The clothes, while much more drab in comparison to the outfit he had worn during the wedding, were far, far more comfortable. At least the collar wasn't strangling him to death. Maker only knew what would happen if he attempted to wear those into the palace. If the Arl's guards were unable to kill him then the collar of his shirt would've cut off his air supply the moment he entered battle.

"Try to hurry. We can't risk someone discovering us and locking the servant's entrance." Darrian nodded.

"Right. Let's get there as quick as we can... I'm worried about the women."

Just as they walked around the corner, someone shouted at them.

"Hey! Elf! What're you doing with a weapon?" Darrian swore under his breath. They had been discovered? Already?

Standing there on the other side was, indeed, one of the Arl's guards, along with a Mabari war hound. The guard was wearing light chainmail, and he was carrying a mace and a shield with the Arl of Denerim's heraldry on it.

"Soris, the dog! Kill the dog!" Darrian shouted as the war hound began bounding across the relatively short distance between the three Elves and the guard. Darrian gripped his blade even tighter, unconsciously taking a step back. There was just something about a big dog with razor sharp teeth assaulting you that made even the most battle-hardened knights think twice about charging forward. The fact that this particular breed of dog could break lines of pikemen and even pull knights off their horses didn't exactly help with the fear.

Soris quickly loaded the crossbow, taking careful aim. The dog, meanwhile, was getting closer and closer.

"Soris!" Darrian shouted again, this time more urgently. Still, Soris hesitated. The dog lunged towards Darrian's throat, who instinctively put an arm out in front of him in a futile attempt to protect himself.

The dog slammed into Darrian, the combined weight and momentum of the animal sending both Elf and hound crumpling to the ground. Despite what Darrian thought, however, the dog's jaws hadn't latched around his throat and drained his blood from him. In fact, the dog was laying off to the side, unmoving. A quick inspection of the body yielded what the beast had died from: a crossbow bolt, embedded in its throat.

The fear of the animal attack subsiding, Darrian grabbed his borrowed longsword and jumped to his feet, charging towards the guard who had remained further back to watch the show between Darrian and his hound.

"You're gonna pay for that, shem!" Darrian spat as the soldier drew his own longsword and shield. Ducking underneath a wild swing, Darrian stabbed upwards with his sword, right underneath the guard's shield. The sword managed to penetrate the guard's chainmail, cutting deep into his stomach.

Without even giving the man a chance to scream in pain, Darrian ripped the blade from his stomach before slashing again, this time cutting through the man's jugular, almost severing his head. Blood splattered all over Darrian as the guard slumped to the ground, gurgling obscenely before finally dying. Darrian wiped a few drops of blood off of his face, reaching down and picking up the guard's shield. It would likely come in handy once they got inside.

"That had to hurt..." Soris remarked, looking down at the dead guard as Darrian shamelessly looted his corpse. He pocketed a small pack of coins before standing up straight.

"Let's keep going. We've wasted too much time here."

After fighting and sneaking their way through the courtyard, Darrian, Soris, and the servant finally found their way to the kitchen's entrance.

"This is it. There's a guard posted inside, but he's almost always drunk or asleep." The servant said.

"Got it. Any idea where they would take the women?" Darrian asked.

"I don't know... They'd be 'entertaining' Vaughan and his men, I imagine. Though I could be wrong."

"Where would Vaughan be?" Soris asked.

"Most likely in his quarters - the far north side of the palace." Darrian frowned deeply. This was most definitely going to be a longer fight than he had previously imagined.

"There's a lot of guards between this kitchen and his quarters. Will we get any sort of help once we're inside?" The servant shrugged.

"Perhaps, but don't think every Elf you see in there is your friend. Plenty of bootlicks would sound the alarm for a pat on the head."

"Fair enough. Looks like we can take it from here, then. Thank you for your help." Darrian said.

"Good luck... And keep your wits about you." And with that, Darrian and Soris entered the Arl's palace.

After walking through a small hallway, Darrian opened up the door at the end, walking into the next room. A guard was standing at the side of the door leading into the main part of the kitchen, snoring loudly. It was just as the servant said... He was asleep.

Darrian lifted a single finger to his lips, motioning for Soris to stay where he was as he walked towards the guard. He placed a hand on the guard's shoulder, gently shaking him awake. He groaned, obviously completely out of it.

"Ugh... I... Mmm... Wha?" He mumbled. Darrian gave him an unusually cheerful smile, reaching for the utility knife hidden within his belt.

"Oh, I'm sorry, kind ser... I just wanted you to be awake for this!" And with that, Darrian tore the knife from his belt and swung it, splaying the guard's throat open and silencing his cry of "Intruders!".

"That was cold, Cousin." Soris remarked as the corpse fell to the ground with a dull thud. Darrian chuckled evilly.

"But it was pretty damn awesome, too. Now, let's move."

Systematically slaughtering their way through the guards, the two finally found themselves standing outside Vaughan's quarters. Darrian attempted to brush some of the blood off of the basic leather armor he had liberated from one of their weapon storehouses. He dropped the shield and longsword he had borrowed from Duncan, hefting the two-handed greatsword Vaughan's bodyguard had carried. Darrian had a fairly great deal of strength, more so than most other Elves in the Alienage, thus the sword didn't provide much trouble. He'd have to compensate for the weight of the thing, though he'd get used to it eventually.

"This is Vaughan's room... You still with me, Soris?" Darrian asked, glancing behind him. Soris stopped reloading the crossbow he had been given, his set of chainmail armor he had also stolen clattering slightly as he stood up straight. He gestured toward the door, bowing as a respectable gentleman might when escorting a woman down the street.

"Ladies first..." Darrian chuckled briefly at Soris's joke, allowing the slightest of smiles to grace his handsome visage before becoming serious again. Not bothering to check if the door was locked or not, Darrian walked up and kicked it in, splintering the opening mechanism and sending it crashing into the wall inside the room with a loud boom. Darrian and Soris strode into the room magnificently, ignoring the shouts of surprise and confusion coming from the nobles within.

Vaughan leaped off of the bed, pulling his trousers up unceremoniously as he turned to face Darrian and Soris. Both Elves tried not to gag at the action. Darrian pointed at Vaughan, sword dragging the ground next to him.

"I told you you'd regret what you did at my wedding. We're here for your head, you pot-bellied son of a whore!" The sheer ferocity and anger behind the insult was enough to make Vaughan pause, if only for a second.

"Don't worry, Lord Vaughan; we'll make short work of these two." One of his friends spoke up.

"Quiet, you idiot! These two are covered with enough blood to fill a tub! What do you think that means?" Vaughan asked, silencing both of the local lords rather quickly.

"It means your guards are dead, that's what. Now, start talking! You've only seconds to live!" Darrian shouted. Vaughan held up his hands in a fashion similar to "I surrender".

"All right, let's not be too hasty here. Surely we can talk this over..." Darrian barked a laugh. NOW who was it begging for mercy?

"I'd say that's pretty funny. You really think you can talk your way out of this?" Soft sobbing coming from the other side of the bed reached everyone's ears, causing Darrian and Soris to glance over at the bed worriedly before turning their attention back to Vaughan.

"Think for a minute... Kill me, and you ruin more lives than just your own. By dawn, the city will run red with Elven blood. Think. You know how this ends. Or, we could talk this through... Now that you have my undivided attention." Vaughan explained. Darrian had no intentions of going along with whatever scheme the noble snob had concocted; nevertheless, he would at least give the man a chance to explain himself further.

"If you've something to say, then say it."

"Here's our situation. You are skilled, obviously. We fight here, perhaps you could even manage to kill us... My father won't let that go. Your pigsty of an Alienage will be burned to the ground. Or, you turn and walk away... With forty sovereigns added to your purses. You take that money and leave Denerim tonight. No repercussions, and you can go wherever you please." Darrian raised an eyebrow. Try as he might, that was indeed a substantial amount of coin... Likely more than he'd see in a lifetime.

"And what about the women? You'll let them leave as well?" Vaughan shook his head.

"The women stay. They'll go home tomorrow - slightly worse for wear, of course - and you'll be long gone. That's the deal, friend. Take it or leave it." Darrian smiled maliciously. That last sentence crushed Vaughan's chances to make it out of their encounter alive.

"I'm going to enjoy taking you apart!" Darrian shouted with an evil cackle, taking a fighting stance with the heavy blade.

"Bah! I always regret talking to knife-ears! Now I'll just gut your ignorant carcass instead!"

It took just a few moments. Vaughan, unskilled though he was, did manage to get a few cuts in and make a few marks in Darrian's leather armor, though Darrian had, in the end, run him through and beheaded him in a few simple strokes of his greatsword, and had set about mangling his corpse beyond recognition while Soris downed the other two nobles with a few well-placed arrows. Those puffy shirts may have demanded respect from the common folk, but they did little when it came to protecting the wearer.

Darrian stabbed the greatsword down into Vaughan's corpse one last time, breathing heavily as he looked down. Vaughan's own whore of a mother wouldn't even recognize his remains now. All that was left was little more than a pile of blood and gore.

"Maker's breath... He... He's dead. We killed him... We killed all of them. Please, Cousin... Please tell me we made the right decision." Darrian chuckled breathlessly, creeping Soris out a bit as he knelt down to examine his handiwork in closer detail.

"Of course we did... We did what we had to. You know, it's funny... Up until now, I never thought I'd ever actually kill a man. But since our time here, I can't help but think just how easy it actually is to take a life... Especially the life of a bratty noble with incredibly soft hands."

"You're insane, you know that? What-" Further sobbing from the other side of the bed in the room caused Darrian and Soris to stop. Darrian left his sword behind, staggering across the room tiredly. What he saw behind the bed tied his already sick stomach in a knot. There lay Shianni, broken and beaten. Her face had a few bruises, as did her arms. A thin stream of blood had run down her face, coming from her nose. Thankfully, it didn't look broken. The skirt of her dress now resembled a tattered rag, one that a farmer might wipe his brow with while toiling in the fields. Tear stains, both old and new, combined with the blood, marred her ordinarily pretty features somewhat extremely.

"I'll go find the others, Cousin. You stay here... Shianni needs you." Darrian turned about to glare at Soris, a mixture of sweat and blood flying from his hair at the sudden motion. The leather armor was cool enough, sure, but swinging a sword all day really tired a person out.

Leave me to comfort the crying woman, will you? Damn you, Soris, you know I'm no good at stuff like this.

It didn't take a noble's education to put two and two together, at least not this time. It was obvious why Vaughan had been pulling his pants up when Darrian and Soris had entered the room. That, combined with how Shianni's skirt was torn was all the information Darrian needed. Silently, he pulled the sheets off of the bed, noting the soft feel of the Orlesian silk that composed the material as he handed it to Shianni, for her to cover up with.

"D-don't leave me alone... Please... Please, take me home..." The sound of Shianni's sobbing would, at this point, likely even melt a serial killer's heart. At least, in Darrian's opinion.

"Don't worry. Everything's going to be all right now. Soris and I are here... You're safe now." Darrian said quietly, looking away respectfully as Shianni finished covering herself up.

"Th-they're gone? You killed them, didn't you? You killed them all?" Darrian gave his cousin a small smile, placing a hand on her shoulder as his eyes met hers.

"Not just them... All the humans who hurt you." Shianni nodded slightly.

"Good," She said, her voice still quivering slightly, "Good."

"Darrian..." Darrian turned about to find Soris and Valora standing there. His bride was nowhere in sight, though.

"Where's Nesiara?"

"I'm here, Darrian," A soft voice responded. Nesiara stepped out from behind Soris and Valora. Relief washed over Darrian's face like a tidal wave.

"Good, you're here... They didn't hurt you, did they?" He asked. Nesiara shook her head. Her hair was slightly disheveled, though that seemed to be the only thing wrong with her.

"No, I'm fine. Your... Friend got the worst of it. They said they were saving us for later." A pause. "I can't believe you came for me..." Darrian shook his head dismissively.

"I couldn't just stand aside and let them hurt you... Or anyone else they took from us."

"Er, sorry to intrude, but we should really get out of here, Darrian. As in now." Soris remarked, cutting Nesiara off as she opened her mouth to say something. "I'll take the rear guard. I can't wait to leave this place." Darrian nodded, standing up and helping Shianni to her feet.

"Yes, I believe I've had enough of this place, for one day. Let's go home... All of us."

Some time later...

As soon as the small group entered the Alienage, they were immediately confronted by Valendrian and Duncan. Valendrian sent the women off to care for Shianni, leaving just Darrian and Soris to explain what happened.

"In short, the Arl's family just got a bit smaller... As did the garrison in the Arl of Denerim's palace." Darrian summarized. Both Duncan and Valendrian took on looks of dread.

"Then the garrison could already be on their way. You have little time." Duncan said. Sure enough, in a matter of seconds, an entire squad of town guards arrived, each wearing heavy chainmail and carrying deadly weapons. The leader of the squad stomped up to the group of three Elves and one human.

"I seek Valendrian, Elder and Administrator of the Alienage!" He barked.

"Here, Captain. I take it you have come in response to today's disruption?" Valendrian asked. The captain seemed unamused with Valendrian's feigned display of forgetfulness.

"Don't play ignorant with me, Elder. You will not prevent justice from being done. Now, the Arl's sone lies dead in a river of blood that runs through the entire palace! I need names, and I need them now!" Darrian glanced over at Soris, nodding at him slightly before stepping forward.

"I believe I'm the one you're looking for here, Captain." Darrian said. The captain gave him a strange look.

"You expect me to believe one man did all of THAT?" He asked.

"We are not all so helpless, Captain." Valendrian said. The captain nodded, apparently buying the comment.

"You save many by coming forward. I don't envy your fate, but I applaud your courage," The captain said, almost seeming impressed. "This Elf will wait in the dungeons until the Arl returns. The rest of you, back to your houses!"

"Captain... A word, if you please." Duncan said, stepping forward.

"What is it, Grey Warden? The situation is well under control, as you can see." The captain responded.

"Be that as it may, I hereby invoke the Grey Warden's Right of Conscription. I remove this prisoner into my custody." Duncan said. Darrian raised an eyebrow, confused at the turn of events.

"You... You can do that?" He asked, a little increduously. The captain, however, didn't seem too happy with Duncan's choice.

"Son of a tied down -" He stopped himself, sighing heavily, "Very well, Grey Warden. I cannot challenge your rights. I will, however, ask one thing: Get this Elf out of the city. Today." Duncan nodded.

"Agreed."

"Now, I need to get my men out on the streets before this news hits. Move out!" And with that, the guards were gone. Duncan stepped over to Darrian, looking down at him.

"You're with me now. Say your goodbyes, and see me when you're ready. We leave immediately."

"Fair enough... But what's going to happen here?" Darrian asked, motioning towards the Alienage.

"For the moment, they are fine. There are far more important matters arising that endanger far more than just your people. I needed a Grey Warden from here and I found one. That conscripting you saved your life is only circumstance. You did what you had to do to accomplish your mission. We need people like you desperately. Now quickly, say your goodbyes. Your life here is over."

_So blunt... I'm going to enjoy traveling with this fellow. Indeed._

Darrian turned to Valendrian, who looked rather melancholy about the whole situation.

"Well, I guess Duncan got his recruit after all." Darrian nodded.

"Yes... But there's a whole world out there, you know."

"Indeed... It only saddens me that it has taken all of this for you to find it. If you'll excuse me, I must tend to our people. Goodbye, young one, and may the Maker watch over you." And with that, Valendrian left. Soris, meanwhile, was standing over to the side, leaning up against the wall.

"Thank you, Cousin. You really saved my hide back there... Both in the palace and here." Soris began.

"Think nothing of it, Cousin," Darrian responded with a warm smile, "I did what was right. Nothing more than that."

"As you've always done, ever since we were children. But this time, I'd like to follow your example. No more daydreaming for me. I'm settling down. Valora's a good woman, and she has ideas on making life better for everyone here." Darrian punched Soris in the shoulder playfully.

"Good. You need a woman to straighten you out," Darrian chuckled at Soris's expression as he said this, before becoming serious again. "Truthfully, I wish you both the best of luck."

"I appreciate it, Cousin. Oh, your father had the women take Shianni back to your house for a time. Will you see her before you leave with Duncan?" Soris asked. Darrian looked down at the ground, suddenly finding his boots very interesting.

"...I don't know." He mumbled.

"Go. It'll break her heart if you don't." Soris's voice sounded unusually commanding that time. How could he say no to that?

"Oh, and good luck, Cousin. You've been my hero since we were kids. It's just official, now." Darrian was unable to stop the fit of laughter that followed. Glancing behind him, he found that Duncan was giving him an impassive stare, though he was likely mentally urging him to hurry up.

You can just wait a minute, Warden. There's one more thing I have to do.

After a brisk walk, Darrian found himself outside his father's house. Cyrion was staring down at the ground, not saying anything.

"Father..."

"If... This is what the Maker has planned for you, then I guess it's for the best. Your mother would be pleased with you right now."

"You're not pleased, father? I thought you would've been happy for me to join a legendary order..." Cyrion glanced down at him.

"Oh no, I'm happy for you. I just... I just wish there was another way. I dreamed of grandchildren, family gatherings and..." Cyrion sighed heavily. "I'm sorry. This isn't helping." Darrian threw his arms around his father.

"Take care, my son. Be strong. And wise. And... Well, you know. We'll all miss you here." Darrian smiled slightly, feeling his eyes burn with tears he refused to shed.

"I'll miss you all too, Father. I love you. And I'll see you as soon as I can." Cyrion motioned towards the house.

"Shianni's inside. You should go speak to her... She's been asking for you." Darrian opened the door, stepping inside and letting it shut behind him. Standing there to greet him was Valora.

"There you are... Nesiara, your betrothed has returned!" She called.

"I'll be right there!" Came the response. Valora turned her attention back to Darrian.

"Since I likely won't get another chance, I just wanted to say thank you... For me, for Soris, for everything. I'll never be able to repay you." She said. Darrian smiled at her.

"Think nothing of it. Just take good care of Soris. He's more trouble than he looks like, believe you me." At that moment, Nesiara walked into the room. Valora politely excused herself, leaving the two alone.

"What happens now? Your father said you're becoming a Grey Warden... You're leaving, aren't you?" Nesiara's eyes seemed to be slightly misted over as she spoke. Apparently she hadn't taken the news so well. Darrian sighed heavily. He had actually desired to get married just before the ceremony, and now... It likely would never happen.

"I'm sorry, Nesiara..." Nesiara raised an eyebrow.

"For what? Saving my life? Being selected for one of the world's most noble callings? Don't worry about me. I'll be all right. Maybe Valora and I will start a business somewhere here in Denerim... But I guess we'll always be wondering what might have been. Your... friend is waiting. And be safe out there, okay?" Darrian nodded numbly, walking towards his room. Sure enough, Shianni was sitting there on his bed. She stood up as he approached.

"You took all the responsibility for what happened. You're amazing, you know that?" She asked. Darrian gave her a half-smile.

"So I've been told." His smile disappeared, and a slightly worried expression took over. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm... All right. As far as the others know, Vaughan just roughed me up a bit. I just... I don't want them treating me like some fragile doll." She sighed heavily. "I love you, Cousin. Make us proud out there." Darrian nodded.

"I love you too, Shianni. And for you? Anything." With that, Darrian grabbed a few meager possessions from the trunk at the bottom of his bed and strode out of the room, pausing to take one last look back at Shianni.

"Maker watch over you..." Darrian didn't reply.

He took his time on his final walk through the Alienage, taking in everything he had known as his home. He likely wouldn't be seeing it again for a long, long time.

Finally, he came to Duncan, who was standing in the same position he had been when Darrian had left, hands clasped behind his back and standing at attention.

"Are you ready to go?" Duncan asked.

"I am." Came the quiet reply. Duncan nodded.

"Good. Then we leave immediately."


	3. Chapter 3

Darrian stared down at the road as he walked alongside Duncan, still covered in the dried blood of Vaughan himself as well as his guards. The heavy sword strapped to his back came close to dragging the ground as he walked; the thing was nearly as tall as he was, from the ground up.

Everything had happened so quickly... One moment, he was about to get married; the next, he was cutting a bloody swath through the Arl of Denerim's palace in search of his abducted bride; and finally he was on a journey to Maker-knows-where with a human he barely even knew on a reckless course to become a member of the illustrious Grey Wardens.

"Where are we even going, Duncan?" Darrian asked, listening to his boots thump off of the cobbled roads as he walked.

"Currently, we are heading north, toward the town of Highever. You know of it, yes?" Darrian sneered slightly. Another priviledged noble family, it seemed.

"My previous bride came from the Alienage in Highever. Oh, I know all about the Cousland family... Second only to King Cailan in nobility, ruling one of the two remaining Teyrnirs in all of Ferelden. How fitting you would drag me along with you to meet yet another noble family, knowing full well that nobles and I do not get along... Period."

"Ah, but not all nobles are like Vaughan Urien, Darrian," Duncan remarked, "Just as not every Elf is as feeble as humans would believe." Darrian frowned heavily. Even hearing the word "noble" was enough to make him want to grit his teeth in anger. Despite what Duncan believed, a noble was just that. A noble. They were all power-hungry, spoiled brats. They didn't care about the common people; all they cared about was collecting their sovereigns when it came time to line the Crown's pockets.

"Why are we even going to this town? What about the darkspawn that you said were such a menace to the South?" Darrian asked. He had gone with Duncan purely for the fact that he had no other choice between a life as a Grey Warden or a premature death courtesy of the gallows, but that didn't mean he was going to make things easy on the older man.

"The darkspawn threat is the very reason we're headed there. The horde gives us incentive to have as many Grey Wardens on hand as possible, so we are headed there to scout for more recruits." Duncan responded. Darrian had to give it to the man: he didn't rise to the bait very easily.

"Got your eye on anyone in particular?" Darrian asked. Duncan nodded.

"As a matter of fact, I do. Teyrn Cousland suggested I examine one of his knights, one by the name of Ser Gilmore. From what the Teyrn has told me, he has good potential to be a Warden. Then there is also Teyrn Cousland's daughter, though I have my doubts that he will allow her to be recruited." Darrian chuckled grimly.

"So, a noble's pawn and an undoubtedly arrogant princess are our options? Forgive me if I don't seem too thrilled at the selection... The knight is most likely a walking bastion of princely honor, while the Teyrn's daughter is probably more afraid of messing up her hair or breaking a nail during a fight-"

"Do not speak of the Teyrn's daughter so. I'll trust you to be on your best behavior when we reach Highever Castle... The Teyrn is a man of fairness and forgiveness, but slander is something no noble is willing to put up with for long." Darrian smirked, feeling slightly malicious. He'd have to push the limit as soon as he got there... Figure out just what was acceptable and what wasn't.

"And even if she were to join us, once you become a Warden, who you were before no longer matters. A Grey Warden is just that. A Grey Warden. No longer a Teyrn, or a knight, or even a commoner. Politics no longer matter, there is only the darkspawn. You would do well to remember this." Darrian scoffed loudly at that notion. It was likely only a matter of time before Duncan finally got fed up with him...

Finally, Duncan stopped them in a small clearing.

"Why are we stopping, old man?" Darrian asked. Duncan seemed somewhat amused with the name, but said nothing about it.

"This is the perfect place to set up camp for the night. Surely you must require rest. We've both had a long, eventful day. Not only that, but there is a small river not too far off into the forest. You would most definitely enjoy a quick bath, wouldn't you?" Darrian's eyes widened slightly, taken aback by his mentor's kind suggestion.

"...Very well, then. For what it's worth, I appreciate it, Duncan." Duncan gave him the slightest of nods.

"Think nothing of it. I will scout the area in the meantime. Please, take your time." Darrian left Duncan to his own devices, heading for the river Duncan had spoken of. It didn't take long to find.

Tossing his pack down, Darrian walked over to the river, removing the leather armor and wading in before methodically scrubbing himself clean. The water was cold, almost ridiculously so for the season. It was fairly hot throughout Ferelden about this time of year.

Darrian frowned heavily as he attempted to wash his hair. The water from the river alone just wasn't doing the trick... He needed soap of some kind. Cursing softly, Darrian turned about, happening to notice the small utility knife he had taken from the Arl's palace laying out alongside his armor. Suddenly, an idea began to form in his head.

Dragging himself out of the water, Darrian grabbed his pack, emptying the contents out onto the forest floor and snatching a tunic and a pair of trousers. Thankfully, he had planned ahead before he had left, bringing a spare change of clothes.

Darrian then grabbed the utility knife and the greatsword he had taken from Vaughan's bodyguard, carrying it over to the river and stabbing it down into the soft earth, so that it now stood straight up. Kneeling down in front of it, he could see his reflection somewhat in the semi-clear iron.

"If the hair won't come clean, then it'll just have to come off." Darrian concluded. He took one last look at himself before beginning to saw off pieces of hair with the knife.

When he finally finished, his hair appeared to have gone through a butcher's shop at some point. The ends were split, ragged, and uneven in many areas. Despite all this, Darrian had still managed to style it somewhat. Three strands of hair covered the right side of his head, while another longer strand was swept to the side on the left. Now so short, the hair around the sides of his head barely covered the tips of his long, pointy ears, while the entire length of it from the back was cut shorter in an almost "human" fashion. All in all, it didn't actually look as terrible as he thought it would.

_Once you become a Warden, who you were before no longer matters._

Darrian raised an eyebrow, remembering Duncan's words. Perhaps it was time to completely reinvent himself...

Vaguely remembering the wild stories concerning the Dalish that Alarith, the shopkeeper in the Alienage, told constantly to whoever would listen, Darrian began rummaging through his items once again. Finally, he found what he was looking for: a bottle filled to the brim with blue ink. Alarith's stories may have been full of lies for the most part, but one part of his tales always caught Darrian's attention: the ceremonial tattoos the Dalish Elves were branded with at a young age, when they became hunters. When he was younger, Darrian had been taught how to tattoo over scars by one of the Elves in the Alienage, if so desired. The tattoo may have drawn more attention than a battle scar, thus defeating the purpose of them somewhat, but at least it was somewhat... Prettier to look at.

Getting a basic idea of what design he had in mind, Darrian splashed some of the ink onto the knife's blade, staring into the iron of his greatsword once more. By the time he was finished, he'd look like one bad-ass warrior... Or a mutant that had lived somewhere deep in the Korcari Wilds for generations.

Or both.

Exhaling a breath he didn't realize he had been holding, Darrian mustered his courage, placing the cold blade of the knife to the skin of his forehead, above his right eye. Gritting his teeth, he applied pressure to the knife, cutting in and injecting the ink deep beneath his skin. Darrian gritted his teeth together even harder, grabbing a handful of grass with his free hand as he continued carving the pattern into his skin.

Darrian tossed his now blood red and blue utility knife to the side, daring to look up into the greatsword "mirror" again. His face was now a complete and utter mess, resembling what one might look like after fighting a High Dragon and living to tell the tale. The ink and the blood mixed together as they ran down his face, splattering against the grass below. His entire face felt like it had suddenly spontaneously combusted, while in reality it looked as if that had literally happened, combined with someone attempting to beat the flames out with a kettle or some other kitchen instrument.

Darrian quickly removed his shirt, patting his face with it lightly and soaking up some of the excess blood and ink. It would be a mess for at least a day or so, until the cuts healed and locked the ink beneath the skin.

"What have you done now?" Darrian slowly removed the shirt from his face, looking up to find Duncan standing over him, his arms crossed and a look of displeasure on his face.

"Self-mutilation is certainly not the way to go about becoming a Grey Warden. Do you not know the dangers of doing something like this yourself? You could bleed to death, or catch a horrid disease." Darrian shook his head, a few more drops of blood falling to the ground as he began to stand up.

"I know all too well the risks of such a thing, my dear Grey Warden mentor... But the blade was clean. Relatively, at least. If I catch a disease and perish, then so be it. I just thought now was the perfect time for a change... To sever my ties to my old life in both appearance and mindset, and to begin looking like the warrior I aspire to be."

_Since that's what you apparently want me to do so badly, isn't it?_ Darrian thought bitterly.

Duncan sighed exasperatedly, his expression losing much of the severity it had previously contained.

"Well... You are most certainly dedicated to this. If a bit overzealous. However, it is not my place to judge you on such things. Now, come with me back to camp. I have a few poultices and salves with me that will seal those marks rather quickly." Darrian tossed his things back into his pack, grabbing his greatsword and his knife, motioning for Duncan to lead the way.

A few moments later...

"Andraste's hairy ass! This stuff feels like liquid lava!" Darrian swore richly, trying to wriggle his way out of Duncan's grasp as he applied the balm to Darrian's face.

"Language, child," Duncan warned, as though he were indeed reprimanding a small child, "And had you not decided to tattoo your face as an Ash Warrior paints his Mabari with kaddis, you would not be dealing with this pain now. Nevertheless, it will be over soon." True to his word, Duncan finished applying whatever the so-called "medical marvel" was. Mere seconds afterward, the pain slowly began ebbing away, being replaced by a slightly numb, tingling sensation.

"How is that?" Duncan asked. Darrian raised a hand to his face, touching his cheek lightly.

"Pretty good, actually... Wow. What did you say that stuff was again?" Darrian asked, getting a quick look at himself through his greatsword "mirror". As soon as the wounds healed, they would be tattooed into a pattern resembling a wolf, or perhaps a wild cat of some sort. Duncan placed the now-empty vial back into his pack.

"Simply a poultice for minor injuries. They should be dissolved by tomorrow morning at the latest. Now, you would do well to get some rest. We have an early day tomorrow." Duncan responded. Darrian rolled his eyes, falling back into the cool grass with a heavy sigh.

"Don't remind me..." He grumbled. Darrian vaguely thought he heard Duncan chuckle for a brief second before he finally succumbed to the fatigue of the day.

* * *

**_Author's note: _**In case I didn't exactly produce a good enough mental image, Darrian's new hairstyle is essentially the same as Teyrn Bryce Cousland's from the Human Noble Origin. The tattoo is the one most similar to a tiger of some sort. I can't remember how it looks exactly, but that's the best way I can describe it.


	4. Chapter 4

"Right this way, Wardens," The guard made a broad sweeping gesture with his hand, leading Duncan and Darrian further into the courtyard of Highever Castle. They had arrived at last, after a journey that had taken several days.

Soldiers were loitering about everywhere, Darrian had noticed that much. Some were training, others were talking amongst themselves. Darrian picked up bits and pieces of the conversation, mostly about "darkspawn" and "Korcari wetlands". Some seemed worried about fighting these things, though some others appeared more than confident. Must've been battle-hungry knights, Darrian mused.

The interior of the main hall was hot, almost burning up, and Darrian soon found himself sweating slightly. A giant fire blazed brightly at the very end. Three people were standing there in front of the fire. Two of them were obviously nobles, with the way they were dressed. The woman standing with them, however, was wearing a set of studded leather armor with a sword and shield strapped to her back. She looked as if she were ready to join the rest of Highever's men in the march to the South.

"Your Lordship, you didn't mention that a Grey Warden would be present..." One of the older men spoke up, one with squinty, shifty eyes and a big nose, which was slightly crooked.

"Duncan has arrived just recently, unannounced, Lord Howe," The other older man replied, this one with a scruffy beard and grey hair, "I was also unaware of his arrival. Is this a problem?"

"No, of course not, but a guest of this kind requires certain protocol. I am... At a disadvantage, if you will."

"It's quite all right. The King's sudden call-to-arms has everyone scrambling right now, so I believe breaches in protocol can be ignored at the moment..." Suddenly, Darrian felt the attention shift to him. Indeed, everyone in the room was now staring at him. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, briefly glancing at everyone standing there.

"Rudeness, however, is quite another thing. Who've you brought with you, Duncan?" The man who was at this point quite obvious Teyrn Cousland asked.

"This is Darrian Tabris, Teyrn Cousland. A Grey Warden recruit I found in the city of Denerim. I'll be taking him and whatever recruits I find here to Ostagar, where they shall undertake the Joining, and become full Wardens." Duncan responded as Darrian stepped forward, now putting himself in the midst of the haughty nobles.

"Ah, I see... Then I suppose congratulations are in order." Darrian shook his head.

"I'm afraid I didn't really have much choice in the matter. I was... Well, let's just say Duncan here decided to conscript me after a certain... Event had taken place."

"Bit of a journey, isn't it?" Howe mused. "From Denerim to Highever and then all the way down to Ostagar..."

"Yes, but one that is necessary, I'm afraid. Finding Grey Warden recruits is a bit more difficult than conscripting farmers and peasants into an army. We seek particular... Qualities, in each potential individual. If they do not have them, then we do not conscript them." Duncan replied, clasping his hands behind his back.

"...What does one look for in a recruit, exactly?" The woman in the room spoke up. Her voice carried something of a sultry tone, Darrian noted. A voice that one would find on a singer...

...Or a prostitute. Well, some, anyway.

"Many things. Being a mighty warrior or the greatest archer in the land is still no guarantee of recruitment. Each of us have our own particular talents, all of which are invaluable in the fight against the darkspawn." Duncan replied.

"And you think you'll find someone with those talents here, yes?" This time, she sounded slightly more excited.

"Ah, please, forgive her questioning, Duncan," Teyrn Cousland spoke, motioning to the girl, "This is my daughter, Miralena. She will be minding the castle while we are away at Ostagar."

Darrian felt himself frown heavily, despite his attempts to keep a neutral expression through the entire conversation. He suddenly felt an extreme urge to just leave the room and let the other four talk. He had no desire to stand next to a noble of any kind on the battlefield, much less a prim and proper daughter of a Teyrn. But, alas, this was where Duncan had to be, so unfortunately he was stuck. She was one of the people Duncan had mentioned as being a potential recruit, after all.

She had dark black hair that was shoulder-length and obviously well combed and cared for. It wasn't styled in a ridiculous fashion, as was most of the noble women of her age; instead, it was simply straightened out and flattened down somewhat. Blue eyeshadow covered her eyes somewhat, drawing out the brightness in her cobalt blue eyes. Surprisingly enough, Darrian saw no hints of cowardice in those eyes. They didn't dart away from the person she was speaking to.

_Perhaps... Perhaps I was wrong about her..._ Darrian thought, looking her over for another brief second or two.

"Honor though that might be, this is indeed my daughter we're talking about... I've not so many children that I'll gladly send them all off to war," Teyrn Cousland said, stepping in between Miralena and Duncan. Darrian mentally kicked himself. He had been ignoring the conversation. "Unless, of course, you intend to invoke the Right of Conscription...?"

Duncan shook his head, raising his hands in a brief "I surrender" gesture.

"Have no fear. I have no intention of forcing the issue. I am more than content to see if there are other potential recruits amongst the rest of your men."

"And glad I am to hear it," Teyrn Cousland remarked, turning back to look at Miralena. "Pup, be a good lass and go help set up sleeping arrangements for Duncan and his recruit. The Warden, Arl Howe, and myself have something we must discuss." Darrian glanced over to Duncan, finding that he was looking back at him. He quickly and inconspicuously shook his head at Duncan, not liking the look in his mentor's eye.

"Actually, your Grace, if it's not any trouble, perhaps your daughter could show Darrian about the castle for a bit before taking him to where he'll rest. We've had a long journey, and I'm sure our talk will merely bore both of them."

"No trouble at all. Pup, would you be willing to do what Duncan has requested?"

"Of course, Father," Miralena responded as she glanced over at Darrian. "Just don't stretch my abilities or anything." Darrian noted that Miralena and the Teyrn had the same smirk. She was indeed his daughter, there was no questioning that. He shook his head.

"Don't worry, Pup. You'll have more than enough to occupy yourself with once you're fully in charge. Go on, now, and if you happen to see Fergus then tell him we need to speak." Teyrn Cousland spoke.

"Yes, Father," With that, Miralena walked over to Darrian, curtsying in front of him respectfully.

"If you'll just come with me, good ser..." Darrian rolled his eyes. He could already tell he'd resent the treatment being a Grey Warden would bring. Nevertheless, he followed Miralena out of the hall and into the castle.

"So... An Elf and a Grey Warden, are you? I wasn't truly aware that Elves could join the Grey Wardens." Miralena remarked as they stopped to gaze out at the land from the castle's battlements. Darrian fixed the young noblewoman with an icy glare.

"According to Duncan, it's a matter of skill in battle and the like... Not a matter of race. Of course, I wouldn't expect a human to understand something such as that." Miralena's eyes widened slightly at Darrian's remark. She mentally kicked herself.

_Maker's breath, I've already offended him... What's Father going to say?_

"I apologize, Warden-"

"And don't call me that, either," Darrian snapped angrily, causing Miralena to take a step back in shock, "I'm not a Grey Warden. Not yet, at least. If you want to talk to me, then use my name. I'm not some honored guest within your castle walls that has to have every whim addressed as soon as possible." Miralena stared down at her feet. This Elf was certainly a strange one, she had to admit. Looking back up, she examined him in more detail.

His dark red, almost black hair appeared to have been mangled by something, yet it was still similar in style to her father's, strangely enough - though it was definitely messier. The light grey irises of his eyes, though making him appear to be blind in some way, held a certain severity to them, as a person who had been through many hardships often did. What intrigued her most, however, was the tattoos, their intricate design covering almost the entirety of his face. They were blue, and were shaped in a pattern Miralena had never seen before... Almost like a wild cat of some sort.

The Elf was also muscular for his height, she had to give him that. Much more so than the skinnier ones that worked about the castle... Even more than some of the male nobles she had met. The ill-fitted, blood-covered leather armor he was wearing didn't exactly help the condition. It certainly left very little to the imagination-

"Why are you staring at me?" Came the slightly bored question. Miralena stopped her inspection abruptly, her face turning red. She had been caught.

"I'm sorry, I just..." Miralena glanced down at her feet, feeling slightly embarrassed at having been caught. She shuffled her feet nervously. "Would you... Like a change of clothes, perhaps? Your armor, it looks..."

"A little bloody, I know. Not that it was exactly in top condition when I received it in the first place... But no, I'm all right." Silence. Darrian glanced over at Miralena for a second.

"...Not that I don't appreciate your offer." This seemed to brighten her expression somewhat.

"It's no trouble. So... Duncan said you were from Denerim. Is that correct?" Miralena asked. Darrian nodded.

"That I am."

"T'is a fine city, is it not? I was there a few years ago for a tournament and various other things held in honor of the Queen's birthday." Darrian glanced down at the ground.

"Fine in some places, maybe. You obviously haven't been anywhere near the place I lived."

"Yes, I suspected you were from the Alienage... We have one here in Highever too. How is it there? I've never actually been inside one myself." Miralena asked. Darrian closed his eyes, sighing heavily.

"It's not a place for someone like you, that much is for sure." Miralena raised an eyebrow.

"What do you mean, 'someone like me'?" Darrian shook his head softly.

"A pretty face like yours has a lot to worry about in a place like the Alienage. You moreso than Elven women, because you're human." Miralena laughed into her hand softly, apparently a habit of the more delicate, prim and proper female nobles around Ferelden, Darrian noted.

"Oh, you think I'm pretty, do you?" Darrian didn't flinch.

"Only an idiot would think differently. Especially with you being a noble and all. But we've lingered here too long, I believe. We have a tour of Highever Castle to finish, don't we?" Miralena nodded, smiling briefly, apparently set at ease by Darrian's comment.

"Right this way, good ser."

"Darrian, not "good ser"." Darrian corrected exasperatedly as they started off through the castle once more.

Darrian listened half-heartedly as Miralena pointed out some obscure fact about the castle, deep in thought. He was still feeling wired for some reason, despite having traveled for quite some time. Perhaps a good workout was in order later on...

As they rounded the corner, however, they were immediately accosted by a man with slightly messy orange-red hair wearing a set of standard-issue Fereldan chainmail armor.

"There you are, Milady! Your mother told me Teyrn had summoned you, so I didn't want to interrupt." He said. Miralena rolled her eyes.

"Well, hello to you too, Ser Gilmore." She said. Darrian raised an eyebrow. Ser Gilmore... This man was the other person Duncan had wanted to test for recruitment into the Grey Wardens.

"Ha, pardon my manners, Milady, it's just that I've been looking all over the castle for you. I... Who is this you have with you?" Ser Gilmore asked.

"Oh, this is Darrian Tabris. He arrived with Duncan, the Grey Warden. Darrian, this is Ser Gilmore, a good friend of mine and a knight in the service of my father." Darrian nodded, crossing his hands behind his back as Duncan had done earlier.

"So there's a Grey Warden here after all, is there?" Gilmore asked.

"Yes. As a matter of fact, Duncan was the one that told me about you. He's planning on testing you for recruitment before long... I was wondering when I'd run into you." Darrian replied, giving the knight in front of him a quick evaluation as he and Miralena chattered on about Wardens and other things. The man didn't look to be too skilled with a blade... Though looks were occasionally deceiving. He wasn't very tall for a human, and even though Darrian typically dwarfed most Elven males, he was still nearly as tall as Ser Gilmore.

"I fear your hound has the kitchens in an uproar again, Milady. Nan's threatening to leave this time." Miralena crossed her arms.

"Did the dog get into the larder again?" She asked.

"No matter how hard the cooks try to keep him out, he keeps finding a way in. You know these Mabari war hounds. He'll listen to his mistress, but everyone else risks having a limb torn off." Miralena sighed heavily, shaking her head.

"I suppose I should go collect him, then," She said, pausing to glance back at Darrian. "I'm sorry about this, Darrian. If you wish, you're more than welcome to come along. This should not take too long, and I can finish showing you about the castle once I've reclaimed my hound." Darrian scoffed at her offer loudly, almost smirking as he saw Ser Gilmore glare at his lack of respect.

"You know what? Why not. It's not like I have anything better to do."

Moments later Darrian found himself standing inside the main kitchen, sighing exasperatedly with his sword facing downwards, buried in the back of an abnormally large rat.

"Giant rats? It's like the start of every bad adventure tale my grandfather used to tell." Ser Gilmore joked. Miralena laughed, but Darrian merely shook his head, sheathing his greatsword on his back once more.

"Forget your old wive's tales, knight. Giant ass rats in the kitchen... And I'm actually supposed to sit down and eat with you people in an hour or two? Maker be damned, I think I'd rather starve first." Darrian remarked, crossing his arms with a heavy sigh as he admired the slew of rat corpses that now littered the ground, most of which were killed by Miralena's war hound.

"I beg your pardon, but do you kiss your mother with that mouth, Ser Tabris?" Darrian responded by giving the orange-haired knight a vicious glare, one that would likely freeze the very soul of a lesser man.

"My mother happens to be dead, if you must know. And you'd do well to keep your nose well out of my-"

"Quiet! Both of you!" Miralena hissed, stepping in between the two of them. "Ser Gilmore, leave Darrian alone. He's had a long trip." Ser Gilmore merely stared at the ground.

"As Milady wishes. Well, seeing as how you've got your Mabari well hin hand, I'd best be off. I've a few more tasks to accomplish for the night." And with that, he disappeared out through the door. Darrian stepped a bit closer to Miralena, standing a good head or so taller than her.

"I'll thank you not to fight my battles for me in the future, Lady Cousland. Now, if you'd be so kind as to tell me where my room is for the night... I'd like to bathe myself and get changed before dinner." He said. Miralena nodded.

"Of course. Follow me, then."

As they walked towards the atrium, they vaguely overheard someone talking. Somewhat loudly.

"And my dear Bryce brought this back from Orlais last month. The marquis who gave it to him was drunk, so I understand, and mistook Bryce for the king... Ah, and here is my lovely daughter." Darrian glanced up at who was speaking to them. Two elderly women stood before them, quite obviously nobles, along with an Elf girl and a younger man, who also appeared to be a noble of some sort.

"I take it by the presence of that troublesome hound of yours that all is well in the kitchen once again?" Miralena nodded.

"Yes, Mother, There were rats in the larder."

"Ah, just the thing my guests need to hear right before dinner!" The older woman said. She was wearing an exquisite dress, her greying hair tied up into two buns behind her head. Despite her age, she was still pretty. "Darling, you remember Lady Landra? Bann Loren's wife?"

Darrian turned his attention away from the nobles as the conversation droned on and on. He had to get away, somehow. Silently, he began to turn to leave.

"Darling, who is this you have with you?" Darrian swore under his breath. Too late.

"This is Darrian Tabris, Mother. A Grey Warden recruit."

"A Grey Warden? Wow, that's rather impressive, isn't it?" The younger man wearing orange asked.

"You remember my son, Dairren? He's not married yet either." The younger noble chuckled heartily.

"It's good to see you again, my lady. You're looking as beautiful as ever." Miralena rolled her eyes at him.

"Go soak your head."

Darrian cackled loudly with laughter as the young nobleman's face began turning as red as the dried blood on his armor. Miralena's mother covered her mouth with her hand, laughing ever so slightly.

"My daughter's diplomatic skill will earn her a post in Orlais, just you wait." Landra chuckled at that.

"I think perhaps I shall rest now. Dairren, I will see you and Iona at supper."

"Perhaps we'll retire to the study for now." Dairren said, walking off with Iona. After a second or two only Darrian, Miralena and her mother were left in the atrium.

"You should say goodbye to Fergus while you have the chance, darling." The Teyrna said. Miralena nodded.

"I will, Mother. But first I must escort Ser Tabris back to his quarters for the evening." Darrian didn't even bother correcting her this time, instead he merely sighed heavily.

"Very well... Go do what you must, then. I'll see you at supper." Miralena led Darrian up the stairs, walking over to one of the doors and unlocking it.

"Well, here we are," Miralena said with a broad, sweeping gesture. "This is where you'll be staying for however long you decide. Father has likely arranged for Duncan's room to be right across the hall. You'll find a change of clothes in the wardrobe over there, as well as any other personal effects you may need. Now, if there is nothing else, I must go prepare myself for the supper." Darrian waved a hand.

"No, no, you're free to leave. This is a little too grand for my tastes, but it will simply just have to do." Miralena smirked at him.

"Oh, I'm fairly certain you'll manage. I will see you later on tonight, then." And with that, Darrian found himself alone.

"...Don't hold your breath." He whispered, beginning to remove his armor.


	5. Chapter 5

Darrian stared at himself in the mirror, ruffling his hair back into the fashion it had been in before he had bathed. As he did so, the silence within the room allowed him to think. Miralena had actually treated him rather fairly in their short time together, it was true, despite a few unseemly remarks.

_A noble is just that. A noble. Everyone is out for themselves..._

The mantra kept repeating itself in his head. These were the words he had lived by since the events that had taken place during his wedding, and so far they had served him well. Still, she had-

Darrian shook his head furiously, trying to rid himself of the thoughts. No. She was no different than any other noble in anything except her approach. Her actions had to have some ulterior motive, though Darrian didn't know exactly what it was. Yet.

Adjusting the now clean leather armor he was wearing, Darrian stepped out of his room, shutting the door firmly behind him. He had found some polish within the wardrobe and quickly got to work cleaning his armor. While still a bit tighter than they should've been, the leathers were still much more comfortable than what the rich snobs attending the feast would likely be wearing. And damn it, he was a warrior, and they were going to see him as one, one way or another. If the tattoos and the messy hair didn't do the trick, then the leather armor would.

"Damn nobles and their feasts... I've been dreading this moment all night. Curse Duncan for not coming here before Denerim..." Swearing richly under his breath, Darrian opened the door leading to the great dining room.

_Oh well... At least I should be seated next to Duncan. That's one thing to look forward to..._

Mere seconds later, Darrian found himself scowling heavily, staring down at the table. To his dismay, he had been seated far away from Duncan by one of the servants, more towards the head of the table where the more "important" guests were seated.

"Enjoying yourself, Darrian?" A familiar, sultry voice asked. Darrian glanced up from the plate of food he had been playing with as Miralena Cousland seated herself across from him, a warm smile on her face.

"Unfortunately, no. I'm not." Darrian remarked boredly, turning his attention back down to the stew in front of him. His tone caused Miralena's smile to falter.

"What's wrong?" Darrian sighed heavily, looking back up into her eyes.

"Oh, you mean aside from me not knowing anyone other than Duncan in this crowded room? There's that, and I suppose I'm a bit wary of the food, seeing as how I saw first hand the size of those rats you people had running around in your larder... Which happens to be where this was prepared, no doubt." Inwardly, Darrian gave a smirk of satisfaction and outright amusement as the noble sitting next to him screwed up his face in disgust, indiscretely spitting into a napkin and pushing his bowl away from him abruptly.

"Well, aside from that... Are you enjoying your stay here somewhat, at least?" Darrian leaned up against the table leisurely, thinking of a good way to answer that.

"This whole thing, it's just... I'm just not used to it. The grandeur, the food, the silk bedsheets, the Orlesian soaps, the fine alcohol... It's all just a little much for me. I grew up in poverty. Stuff like this is what every Elf in the Alienage dreams of but never experiences. I suppose I should count myself amongst the few lucky ones." Miralena gave an understanding nod.

"I understand. I am curious about the Alienage, however... Will you tell me now what it is like to live there?" Darrian shrugged.

"I'm sure the humans have their own views on the way things work there. As for myself... Well, how do you describe the one place you've known your entire life only as "home"? Not that I'm saying living there is easy, but there you go." He replied. He watched as Miralena's eyes roamed over his face for a brief second.

"Those tattoos you have... How did you..." Darrian traced a finger over a few of the markings.

"I did it myself. Duncan told me that once a person becomes a Grey Warden, all ties of their previous life are more or less severed. Titles of nobility and the like, not actual family. So, I figured it was a good time to... Reinvent myself." He replied. Miralena smiled at him again.

"Ah, I understand completely. A ferocious slayer of darkspawn has to look the part, not merely play it." She remarked. Much to his surprise, Darrian actually found himself chuckling at her words.

"Yes, well, believe it or not, that was actually my reason behind it. I cut my hair as well, though I did a poor job of it all, considering I was armed with nothing but a dull knife and the best reflection a tarnished iron sword could provide." Now it was Miralena's turn to chuckle.

"Oh, it's not so bad. Perhaps a little ragged with a few split ends, but trust me when I say I've seen far worse." Darrian took a sip of the wine he had in the cup across from him, grimacing at the bitter taste of it. He barely managed to keep from spitting the alcoholic beverage all over Miralena, the strong wine burning like fire as it snaked its way down his throat. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand rather ungracefully, setting the cup down.

_Maker, how does Shianni stand this stuff?_

"Listen, I wish to apologize for Ser Gilmore's attitude previously. What he said may have been out of turn, but you must understand that he was brought up to respect women, to refrain from using coarse language in their presence. Especially when they happen to be nobility." Darrian waved her off.

"It's no trouble, don't worry about it. Just... My mother was a great warrior. My father and I both loved her very much, and I guess I lost my temper a bit when the knight said... What he said." Darrian chuckled slightly before continuing.

"Maker, if she could only see me now, sitting here in a huge castle, dining on possibly disease-inducing food with a hundred nobles I don't even know, talking so freely with a female... And a Teyrn's daughter, at that... I wonder what she would have said." This struck a chord within his heart. Darrian's half-smile disappeared as he glanced down at the table again.

"I'm sorry... I didn't mean to offend you." Darrian held up a hand.

"No, it's no problem. You'd think I'd be over it by now... It's been so long. But let's not dwell on that. Have anything else you want to ask me about the Alienage? Or, hell, even the Grey Wardens? I'll answer it if I can."

The two continued talking for a vast majority of the supper, until most of the nobles had left the table.

Miralena yawned loudly, forgetting etiquette for a brief second.

"This has been nice, Darrian, but I believe I'd best return to my chambers. I've got an early day tomorrow... Howe's men are supposed to arrive tonight, which means my father will be gone tomorrow. And as much as I'd like to go with them, or even with you and Duncan, somebody's got to mind the castle while they're away." Darrian ducked under the table as she stood up, reappearing on the other side with her.

"Duncan will likely be testing Ser Gilmore early tomorrow. With any luck, we'll be on the road to Ostagar by noon..." Darrian gulped, suddenly feeling unsure of himself.

"Would you... Like me to escort you back to your quarters? I'm guessing they're both in the same area..." Miralena smiled brightly.

"Such a gentleman! I knew you'd start being a little nicer sooner or later..." Darrian rolled his eyes, unfazed by her teasing.

"Enough with the sarcasm... It's just simply a good walk back to the guest rooms, and to be honest I might enjoy the company a little. Now, do you want me to walk with you or not?" He asked.

"It's a kind gesture nonetheless. I'd love it if you would... Shall we?" Darrian nodded, the faintest of smirks gracing his still-handsome features.

"After you..."

_Don't think this changes anything, though,_ Darrian thought as he walked, _My opinion of nobles hasn't changed just because of a few nice gestures._

Their walk continued in silence, at least for the most part. There was still an occasional question or two. Finally, Miralena stopped them when they came to the guest rooms.

"I believe I can make it the rest of the way, Darrian. I appreciate what you've done here tonight... It must've taken a huge leap of faith." Miralena remarked. Darrian nodded calmly.

"You've no idea... Sleep well."

"And you, Darrian." With that, Miralena stalked off, her heels clacking against the stone floors of the hallway. Darrian watched her as she walked away. She was rather pretty in a dress-

Darrian flung the door to his room open, almost running inside and slamming the door behind him. His heart thudded loudly in his chest as he breathed heavily, almost hyperventilating.

_Stupid... Stupid... What's wrong with you, Darrian Tabris?_

Darrian practically tore off his armor, throwing on a shirt and a pair of pants before collapsing onto the bed.

_Being friendly with a Teyrn's daughter... A noble. It goes against your code, damn it! You're playing a dangerous game... She'll just use you if she gets the chance. A noble is just that. A noble. Everyone's out for themselves._

That was the last thought that ran through Darrian's head as he fell into the deep darkness of sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

Darrian was awoken suddenly by a loud bang on his door. Groggily, he sat up in the bed, rubbing his eyes as he did so.

"Who is it? Duncan, is that you?" He called. He received no answer.

"Is it you then, Lady Cousland?" Still no answer. A few minutes passed by in total silence. Deciding to ignore it, Darrian laid back down on his pillow.

"Guess a servant girl got the wrong door or something..." He murmured, halfway dozing off again.

That comment was soon unfounded, however, as the door suddenly burst open, being torn from its hinges. Darrian shot up to a sitting position just as a man wielding a sword and a wooden shield came charging into the room, shouting angrily as he did so.

"Die, Warden!" Darrian's eyes widened as he charged.

"Oh hell no!" He shouted, barely managing to roll out of the bed just as the man came crashing down on it, his sword stabbing through the matress like a knife through butter. Unfortunately, the sudden movement left Darrian entangled within the covers.

"Who the hell are you supposed to be?" Darrian asked, struggling to free himself from the thick fabric. The man standing on the bed freed his sword from the mattress, pointing it at him as if to issue a challenge of some kind.

"Stay silent and die, knife-ear!" His words struck a chord in Darrian's heart. Anger began to flow through every fiber of his body.

_Bah! I always regret talking to knife-ears!_ Vaughan's previous words echoed in his mind.

With one final pull, Darrian freed himself completely from the fabric. He quickly rolled to the side as the deadly piece of metal came slicing down once more, getting to his feet and grabbing his greatsword, which he had propped up against the wall.

"No, YOU stay silent and die, shem!" Darrian countered, bringing the giant blade down on the man's shield, splintering the wood loudly and knocking his opponent off balance, possibly fracturing a few bones in the process. Darrian seized this opportunity, drawing back as far as he could before swinging the blade upwards in front of him with all of his might. The giant sword easily cut through the man's leather armor, almost splitting his torso in half from his left hip to his right shoulder. Blood sprayed all over Darrian and the floor as the man flew backwards, gurgling obscenely before finally dying.

With his attacker dead, Darrian quickly relit the torch above his bed, so as to get a better look at the person who had assaulted him. The moonlight coming in from the window had given him enough light to kill, but not enough to know exactly who he was fighting against.

Walking back over to the corpse, Darrian knelt down in the floor a short distance away. The man he had killed was a soldier, obviously, though he couldn't tell if he was a part of Highever's army or some other force. The shield on his arm had a piece of heraldry on it, but Darrian had done a good enough job of breaking the shield with sheer brute force.

"So much for finding that out..." He remarked. But he still had questions. Who were these men? Why were they here? What was the purpose behind his attempted assassination? Nobody bothered trying to assassinate Elves...

_Oh. That's right. I'm technically a Grey Warden now._

Darrian snatched a locket off of the soldier's neck, looking it over briefly before tossing it aside. It was worthless. Standing up straight, he cracked his neck loudly before hurriedly putting his leather armor on and making for the door.

"I'd better tell Duncan about -" A scream coming from across the hall once again put him on full alert mode. Without bothering to be stealthy, Darrian strode out of the room to find two more soldiers standing on the other side of the hall. A corpse lay in the doorway of the opposite room, though Darrian couldn't tell who it was. Rather, his attention was focused on what the two men were so interested in: the Elven handmaiden that had arrived with that old crone of a noblewoman.

Having seen enough of the men's filthy hands groping the girl and having heard enough of the girl's screams, Darrian decided to make his presence known to the men. He cleared his throat loudly, his voice booming as he yelled.

"Get your filthy hands off the Elven girl, you ugly bastards!" The men obviously heard his insult, as they dropped the girl almost immediately, drawing their respective weapons. One was wielding a mace and a dagger, while the other had the sword and shield combo of the one that had burst through the door in an attempt to kill Darrian.

"We don't have time for your games, scum... Where is the Teyrn? Tell us!" The one with the sword and shield demanded. Darrian merely gave the two men a malicious grin, dropping into a defensive posture.

"I'm not telling you dirtbags anything..." He spat. The soldier with the mace took offense to this, apparently.

"Elven trash... I guess I'll just have to cut off your pointy little ears and feed them to the Mabari, won't I?" Darrian's grin merely grew wider at his threat.

"You're more than welcome to try that... If you think you're man enough for the challenge, that is." Darrian almost laughed at how red the man's face turned due to his anger. It was actually fun insulting this soldier... His emotions were getting the best of him.

With a ferocious battle cry, the soldier charged at Darrian, mace drawn back to crush his head in. Darrian sidestepped the heavier of the weapons, but was unable to avoid the dagger, which cut a small gash into his slightly exposed thigh.

"You bastard! SIT DOWN!" Darrian commanded, smashing the pommel of the greatsword into the man's face. He was rewarded with a satisfying crunch as the man's nose was broken when the pommel connected with it, causing blood to flow forth like a river from the damaged orifice and knocking the soldier on his ass. He didn't even have time to grab his nose and try to stop the bleeding, only to scream in pain and terror as Darrian ran him through, the greatsword slashing through his armor and piercing one of his lungs. Darrian tore the blade from the soldier's chest a mere second afterwards, eliciting a mangled, tortured noise from his throat as he lay on the floor, slowly bleeding to death.

"And now you!" Darrian yelled at the other soldier, who unconsciously took a step back, his shield held out in front of him in a defensive posture. Darrian chuckled at his half-hearted attempt to stay alive.

"That hunk of wood isn't going to do much against my blade, you know." Darrian remarked rather lightheartedly.

"Oh, Maker..." Darrian heard the other man say. He was obviously frightened. Hefting his blade, Darrian charged towards this opponent, covering the distance between them in a few quick strides and bringing his weapon down on the terrified man's shield. This time, instead of merely splintering the wood, the blade cut through the man's shield completely, continuing on its downward path and hacking off the limb holding the shield. Blood spilled out onto the floor in a small river as the soldier screamed in pain, falling to the ground and gripping his arm in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding.

"Oh, Holy Andraste, Mercy! MERCY!" He screamed. Darrian looked away before running this one through in a fashion similar to the other, mercifully deciding to end his life. Looking down, he couldn't help but shake his head in disbelief. He had just killed a boy of a soldier, one that looked even younger than he was.

"Whoever sent you people doesn't look like he knows what he's doing. These soldiers aren't even trained..." Darrian remarked. He glanced down at the shield that still adorned the severed arm of the soldier he had just slain. It had heraldry on it as well, appearing to be a bear of some sort. Darrian didn't recognize what part of the Bannorn claimed such a flag, but one thing was definitely sure... It was a rival army of some sort, not assassins.

"Damn it... Where's Duncan?" Darrian asked himself. The man obviously hadn't been in his room at the time... Unless he was actually dead, which Darrian doubted. Despite his age, Duncan looked like a skilled warrior, much more than able to defend himself against the unorganized rabble within the castle.

Darrian placed a hand on his forehead, trying to plan out his course of action. Duncan was missing at the moment. He was the only one left in the guest quarters, aside from the corpses and the crying Elf girl off to the side, who wasn't Darrian's prime objective at the moment. There was likely more soldiers than just the ones he had seen in the castle. They likely had a handful of guards or less that didn't leave with Miralena's brother to defend themselves with...

"I've gotta find Duncan... Hopefully he knows what's going on." Darrian decided, walking down the hall and opening the door leading out into the castle. He was immediately greeted by four more soldiers, two of which were archers. Said archers immediately nocked an arrow each.

"There's one! Get him!" Darrian swore loudly, his eyes widening as two arrows flew towards him. He scrambled to get out of the way, running back out the door he came in from. One arrow bounced off of the wall harmlessly, but the other managed to bury itself in Darrian's right shoulder, right in the small gap between his shoulder and the rest of the armor.

Darrian knelt down directly next to the doorway, laying his greatsword down next to him as he gripped the shaft of the arrow buried in his skin.

"I'm going to kill the whole lot of you for that..." Darrian said under his breath, grunting in pain as he gave the arrow a hard yank. It freed itself from his skin with a slightly wet, squishing sound. Darrian glanced down at the arrowhead as the blood began running down his back in small streams. It had a barbed tip. Darrian growled angrily, throwing the arrow to the side in disgust as he gripped the wound with one hand. He had done more damage to himself by yanking it out than he had by leaving it there.

Footsteps caused his ears to perk up slightly, coming from the room he had just ran out of. Darrian forced himself to stand up, pulling his utility knife out of his belt with his right hand, forcing himself to stop applying pressure to the wound with his left hand for a moment or two, and least.

As soon as the soldier appeared in the doorway, Darrian grabbed him by the collar of his armor, swinging him around with all of his strength and bashing the man's face against the wall on the opposite side of him. A quick stab to the reeling man's throat put him out of commission. One down, three or four more to go...

"Damn it..." Darrian freed the blade from the man's neck, leaning up against the wall once again. If another came through then he'd just get slashed open in a similar fashion. But right now, he needed a plan to deal with those archers.

I wonder if that one has anything of use on him... Darrian thought. He silently stalked over to the corpse of the dead soldier he had just killed, searching his bags. Curiosity struck Darrian as he pulled a glass flask out of the man's pack. Finally, the reality of what he found set in. Darrian smiled evilly.

He had found a flask filled with enough green acid to clear the entire room.

Stalking back over to the doorway, he took a deep breath before leaping out and hurling the flask with all of his strength at one of the archers.

"Suck this!" He yelled, ducking back behind the doorway as he heard the glass shatter. A greenish mist quickly engulfed the entire room, and within minutes Darrian was hearing screams as the acid burned the skin of those within the room.

Darrian reached down for his sword as the screams stopped and the deadly green smoke began to dissipate. His shoulder stung angrily as he did so, but Darrian did his best to block out the pain. A little pain was nothing when it came to defending himself.

Darrian continued through the room, ignoring the stench of the burned corpses laying there as he continued down a short flight of stone steps without incident. He could hear fighting throughout the entire castle, yet he saw no one. Not a soul.

As he came to a spot leading down towards the main hall, however, his ears happened to pick up footsteps coming from his left. Darrian quickly hugged the wall, sneaking down the walkway as quietly as he could.

"More soldiers, huh... Well, you're not taking me by surprise like your little archer buddies did..." Darrian said under his breath. He stopped just to the side of the corner, breathing silently. The footsteps were getting closer... And closer... and closer...

Finally, Darrian shouted a battle cry, swinging himself around the corner with his sword already moving through the air to deliver a fatal blow. A feminine scream of surprise and outright terror reached his ears, which caused him to get a quick look at his prey. Upon recognizing the person, Darrian attempted to stop himself in mid-swing, but quickly found that he currently didn't have the strength to perform such a feat, and succeeded only in slowing the blade's descent somewhat. The victim of his ambush quickly fell backwards, the blade slamming into the stone with a loud bang. Darrian breathed heavily, staring down at the woman lying in front of him in shock.

"By the Maker, Darrian!"

Miralena stared down at the blade that was resting against the stone directly between her legs. That was far too close... Had she not fallen backwards, the Elf would've cut her in two.

"Miralena... I'm sorry, I thought you were another soldier!" Darrian apologized, dropping his blade. Miralena slowly got to her feet, wrapping her arms around herself slightly as she took in a shaky breath, still trembling like a leaf even though the ordeal was over.

"Never, ever do that again... I really thought it was all over there for a minute. Oh, Maker..." Darrian gripped his shoulder, reaching down to pick up his blade. A few drops of blood splashed against the ground as he did so.

"You're injured! What happened to you?" Miralena asked, watching as more blood fell from Darrian's fingers.

"Archers got the best of me when I started heading out into the castle... Sneaky shem caught me with a barbed arrow, but I fixed him well enough with an acid flask I stole from one of the men I killed." Darrian screwed his face up slightly as another spike of pain eminated from his shoulder. "And damn, does it hurt."

"Hold, Grey Warden. I have some bandages -" Darrian waved Miralena's mother off as she came running up a few moments later.

"Don't worry about me, Teyrna. We've wasted enough time here as it is... Have either of you seen Duncan? I don't remember him retiring to his room earlier." Darrian asked. Miralena shook her head.

"No... But we're looking for my father as we speak. They've got to be around here somewhere!" She said. That did little to quiet the anxiety of Darrian's heart. Like it or not, he did owe the old man for saving him from the gallows. It just wasn't right to have him die in this attack.

"Come with us to the front gates, Warden. We'll find my husband and your mentor in good time." The Teyrna said, sounding just a bit more composed than her daughter. Darrian nodded.

When they reached the front gates, they were greeted by a menagerie of corpses, with two men blocking the gates. A familiar knight came walking up to them, obviously wounded and covered in both his own blood and the blood of his opponents.

"Your Ladyship! My Lady! Thank the Maker you're unharmed!" Darrian left the three to their conversation, walking across the hall to the door he vaguely remembered leading to the larder. Ser Gilmore finally waved the Teyrna and her daughter off, rushing to help the other men bar the gates.

"Where are we going?" Darrian asked as Miralena and the Teyrna jogged over to him.

"The servant's exit in the kitchen. We have to get out of the castle." Darrian turned about and kicked open the locked door, splintering the wood as he did so. The three exited the main hall, continuing on towards the larder.

Just when they thought they were in the clear, however, they came to a grinding halt as they saw what obstacle awaited them. And it was quite an obstacle indeed. Standing before them was a knight, wearing heavy scale armor. His face was completely obscured by the helmet he wore, and he had a giant maul gripped in both of his huge hands.

"Finally, a real challenge!" Darrian remarked, stepping forward to challenge the man.

"Darrian, no! You're injured!" Darrian merely ignored Miralena's words. There was no other way around the walking castle standing in between them and the servant's exit, and he was likely the most capable fighter of their small band at the moment, injured though he was. Unfortunately, this man didn't seem to be much of a pushover, unlike the unorganized soldiers Darrian had gutted earlier.

Said man charged towards him like a bronto in an Orlesian glass shop, abandoning all grace as he prepared to try to crush Darrian's skull with his enormous hammer. Darrian brought up his blade just as the man brought said hammer down, barely managing to deflect the heavy hit. The sheer force behind the hammer was enough to force him to his knees, however, and a fist the size of a miniature boulder came crashing into his face, knocking Darrian over and even causing him to slide across the stone floor a bit. Darrian looked up just as the man stood over him, ready to crush his skull into powder and mash his brains into a slightly gooey paste.

Thankfully, the strike never came, as an arrow imbedded itself in a weak point of the knight's breastplate. Not so much as grunting in pain, the knight merely ripped the arrow from his side. Darrian quickly rolled out of the path of danger, still keeping a grip on his blade as he scrambled to his feet before rushing the knight, poised to lop off the man's head and end the fight in one fell swoop.

The knight, unfortunately, saw the attack coming from a mile away and lowered his shoulder, hitting Darrian right in the chest and using his momentum against him to send him flipping over the man's shoulder. Darrian hit the ground with a dull thud, though he still managed to get back up fairly quickly...

That is, until something incredibly heavy and hard slammed into his chest and sent him flying backwards again, knocking the breath out of him. This time, he didn't get up so quickly.

"Darrian!" Darrian vaguely heard Miralena shout as he hit the ground. He coughed, gritting his teeth and clutching at his chest as he felt a surge of pain run up his torso. The maul weighed a ton, and he was sure he had bruised at least two ribs.

Miralena stood there gawking at the scene before her. Her hands gripped her sword and shield tightly, yet she couldn't force herself to move. The knight was skilled, obviously having seen more battles than every other soldier that had been sent to assault the castle.

Darrian stared up at the armored man towering over him defiantly, refusing to die begging for mercy. The knight raised his maul high, about to bring it down on Darrian's head.

Before he could do so, however, two arrows pierced the back of his armor at the same time. This bought Darrian all the time he needed. Raising his leg into the air slightly, Darrian put as much force as he could behind it, planting it in the knight's groin. This, surprisingly, was the one attack that hurt the man enough to make him yelp in pain. Reaching for his utility knife, Darrian hauled himself to his feet before practically falling on the knight kneeling in front of him, slashing at his throat violently. He managed to get lucky and slide the blade underneath the man's helmet, and in a few seconds blood began to spurt. Darrian continued slashing away, not stopping until he felt the knight beneath him stop convulsing. He gave the knight's helmet one last punch, breathing heavily. He began to chuckle, before gripping his ribs once again.

"I did it... I killed the bastard!" Darrian said happily, continuing to hold his ribs as Miralena and the Teyrna ran over to him. He shrugged them both off as they attempted to help him up.

"I don't need your assistance..." Darrian snapped, crawling over to his greatsword and gripping the hilt once more. He managed to stand it up with the blade pressed into the ground, dragging himself up from the floor. "I can... Make the walk myself. Let's go." Miralena and her mother exchanged worried looks.

"But, Warden, your ribs-"

"Are fine," Darrian interjected, using his sword as a walking stick as he moved. "I'm not a fragile doll, I'm a Grey Warden. Now are we going to get out of here or not?"

The three entered the larder wordlessly, Miralena and her mother looking about for something. Darrian merely leaned on his sword a bit more heavily, listening to the wheezing sound his lungs made as he breathed. He had played his injuries off in front of Miralena and the Teyrna, but now he was almost certain he had cracked a few ribs, rather than just bruising them.

"There... You both are..." Darrian still had the energy to glance up and see who was talking. Lying there on the floor in a huge puddle of his own blood was Teyrn Cousland.

"We were too late, it seems..." Darrian whispered under his breath as Miralena and her mother sprinted over to him. He limped up behind them, staring down at the three.

"Maker's Breath, all this blood... What happened to you?" The Teyrna asked.

"Howe's men... Found me first. Almost... Did me in right there... Duncan... Left me here to rest while he checked to see if the exit was clear." The Teyrn replied. Darrian felt his mind ease somewhat, if just a bit. That meant that his mentor was still alive.

"And he just left you here alone?" Miralena shrieked, her voice echoing off the walls. "Father, we need to get you out of here!" The Teyrn merely shook his head.

"I'm afraid... I can't even stand... Much less walk or run." This didn't deter Miralena one bit.

"Then we'll just have to drag you out!" She responded. The Teyrn chuckled softly.

"Only... If you're willing to leave pieces of me behind, Pup." Darrian watched silently as the spectacle continued, for once at a loss for words. The Teyrna, however, apparently did not find the humor in the Teyrn's words.

"Bryce! This is no time for jokes!" Darrian sighed heavily.

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news... But I'm afraid Lord Cousland isn't going anywhere any time soon. We need to get out of here, and we need to do so right now."

"No! Don't say that!" Darrian almost regretted his harsh words as he glanced over at Miralena, her body shaking slightly with her sobbing. "There has to be some way! There has to be!" Darrian looked away. He had almost no experience whatsoever in dealing with crying women... Except for Shianni, of course.

"There isn't, Pup... And you know it... But the Grey Warden is correct... Now go, all of you, before Howe's men surround the entire castle..."

"I'm afraid the Teyrn is correct." Darrian recognized that voice immediately.

"Duncan... You... You're alive..." He wheezed. Duncan pointed towards the door. Darrian got the message, but first he stumbled into the kitchen. If they were going to be running away then they certainly wouldn't be starving in the meantime, damn it! After stuffing his pack with bread, apples, wineskins, and a few other things, Darrian staggered back out with a significantly heavier pack than before, taking his place at the door. Darrian listened as they continued talking, the ending of which finally culminated with Miralena being offered a place amongst the Grey Wardens and Teyrna Cousland volunteering to stay behind and buy them time to escape.

What sounded like an explosion ripped through the calmness of the larder, coming from the direction of the main entrance. Howe's soldiers had broken through the gates.

"Duncan!" Darrian called, worry evident in his voice as he jogged over to his mentor, doing his best to ignore the pain in his ribs.

"They've broken through the gate," Duncan grabbed the still-crying Miralena by the collar of her armor, hauling her up to her feet. "We go. Now!" Darrian glanced back one last time to make sure they weren't already being followed before following Duncan and Miralena out of the exit.

_And so ends the reign of one of the most powerful families in all Ferelden..._ Darrian mused grimly as the three bolted for the treeline.


	7. Chapter 7

"Duncan! I can't... I can't run much longer..." Darrian warned. The adrenaline that had taken over during their escape had long-since worn off, and now he was feeling the full extent of his injuries. It now hurt just to breathe, to say little of running.

"Keep steady... I promise we will stop soon." Duncan responded, continuing to lead them deeper into the forest. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity to Darrian, Duncan finally stopped them in a small clearing.

"We shall rest here for a time... We should be far enough away from the roads to keep any patrols from seeing us, and the trees will protect us from the weather should it decide to rain." Darrian collapsed onto the ground, furiously loosening his leather cuirass. After a second of unlacing the leather, the pressure on his ribs was relieved, taking much of the pain away almost instantaneously.

"Oh, Maker... That feels fantastic..." He mumbled. Duncan raised an eyebrow.

"What exactly happened to you, Darrian?" He asked. Darrian proceeded to tell Duncan the entire story, ending with the knight he had fought in the hallway. Duncan had taken to bandaging his shoulder as he told the tale.

"Ordinarily, I would check you for any broken ribs as well... But I doubt you would have been able to run for that length of time were they broken." Darrian merely waved him off.

"Bah. I'll be fine, old man. Just give me a day or two."

"You didn't happen to collect any food while we were there, did you?" Duncan asked. Darrian nodded, shoving a thumb at the pack he had dropped on the ground behind him.

"Yeah. I can't remember what all I grabbed, but it should last us for a time, at least." At this point, Darrian glanced around for a quick second, noting the lack of a specific female companion of theirs.

"Where's Miralena?" Duncan said nothing, merely nodding his head in one direction. Darrian followed his nod, and sure enough, there she was, sitting with her back facing them. Obviously she was still a little out of it. Darrian reached behind him, fumbling about for his pack. He finally got a hold on it, dragging it over to him and rummaging through the confines. He grabbed a piece of bread and a wineskin, taking a sip from it and swishing it around in his mouth before spitting off to the side. Like magic, the taste and smell of smoke, blood and death disappeared, overpowered by the taste of the rather strong red wine. Satisfied with that, he took another small sip and swallowed before offering it to Duncan, who did the same thing before handing it back.

Dragging himself to his feet, Darrian gave Duncan a quick nod before staggering off in Miralena's direction. He sat down next to her, noting the surprised look she gave him. Her face was tear-stained, that fact was painfully obvious even in the pale moonlight. She looked off to the side, wiping furiously at her eyes. Darrian held out the piece of bread and the wineskin for her to take.

"Here... You might feel a little better if you eat something." Miralena said nothing, drawing her knees up to her chest and hiding her face in them. Darrian shook his head, ripping a piece of bread off of the loaf and popping it into his mouth. Apparently this wasn't going to be as simple as he thought. He set the wineskin to the side, placing the bread on top of it so it wouldn't touch the ground and become spoiled.

"...I've lost everything..." Darrian barely understood the muffled words. He glanced down at the ground, unsure of what to say to that.

"My mother... My father... My sister-in-law and my nephew... My home... Everything..." Darrian remained silent, contemplating his words carefully. He really was no good at this... Especially when it came to humans. Finally, he spoke.

"I... I'm sorry. I really just don't know what to say right now. Duncan would probably just lecture you on honor, duty, and this supposed "higher calling" of being a Grey Warden, but I'm not going to do that... I'd probably just screw that up too." Darrian sighed heavily, closing his eyes and leaning back on his hands, being careful not to strain his arrow wound too much. "But for what it's worth, I'm sorry... I thought there was something suspicious about that ugly old bastard and his crooked nose the moment I laid my eyes on him. But for him to do something like this... It's just sickening."

He heard Miralena sniffle, a delicate hand reaching up to wipe away a few more tears.

"I'm sorry... I should... I should probably be handling this better..." Darrian shook his head.

"No. If anyone deserves to act like this for a while, it's you. We all deal with pain differently... Hell, I'm still dealing with it myself." Darrian's eyes instantly widened slightly and he looked away. He didn't want to talk about what had happened to him... Not yet. He could feel Miralena's eyes on him.

"It's... Understandable. The Alienage is a harsh place-"

"No, that's not it... Yes, the Alienage was rough, but it's... I'm sorry. I really just can't discuss this. Not right now." Darrian ran his fingers through the cool grass, still not meeting Miralena's eyes. The two sat there in silence for a few moments.

"Darrian?"

"...Yeah?"

"What do you think will happen? Once we become Grey Wardens." Her voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. Darrian sighed.

"I don't know... I really don't. Duncan's too secretive about everything pertaining to this "Joining". But I've got nowhere else to go... As much as I dislike the secrecy, I owe Duncan, and this is the only way I can think of to repay him fully. But I suppose we'll be killing as many darkspawn as possible. Isn't that what Grey Wardens are supposed to do?" He asked. Miralena gave him the slightest of nods.

"So the legends say, anyway... I'm not sure if I'm ready to face these things. I may have been trained to fight, but I'm not a soldier..." Darrian chuckled mirthlessly at that.

"I'm not sure if anyone is ready to face these darkspawn... Even me. I'm just going to try to take it in stride and kill as many as I can. At least that way, my life would have a purpose. At the moment, I've got two choices: become a fearless slayer of evil, or barely manage to support myself by doing odd jobs around Denerim. Quite frankly, I think the first choice sounds like it'd be a hell of a lot more fun. Don't you?" Miralena merely shook her head.

"I'm not so sure what to think anymore..." She replied. Darrian chose this moment to stretch, a few of his joints popping rather loudly in response.

"Neither do I... It's funny, really. In just a few days, I've gone from "that one Elf" to soon-to-be Grey Warden. Go figure, right? It's just another one of those days, I guess..." More silence.

"Darrian?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you... Have anyone special back home?" Miralena blushed slightly as Darrian raised an eyebrow in question. "I... I realize it's an awkward, personal question. Just... You seem to be almost happy about leaving it all behind." Darrian shrugged in response.

"And why not? Should I be acting differently?" Miralena shook her head.

"No... Just curious. That's all."

"Well... To answer your question..." A vision of Nesiara flashed through his mind's eye, but he quickly squashed the thought. That wedding just simply wouldn't happen. "No. Once there was, but m'afraid there isn't any longer. Just a few close relatives, that's all."

"I'm sorry." Miralena remarked, but Darrian merely waved her off.

"Don't be. It was a long time ago..." Liar.

"I don't have anyone either... Howe tried to get my father to marry me off to his son, Thomas, once, but I refused." Darrian noted the amount of venom the word "Howe" carried as it rolled off her tongue.

"Guess we've got a bit more in common than I thought, then." Darrian mused half-heartedly.

_Perhaps a bit more on the treacherous noble front than you think we do..._

Something slightly heavy landed on Darrian's shoulder. He glanced down to find than Miralena had chosen to make his uninjured shoulder her own personal pillow.

"So tired... Hope you don't mind." Darrian hesitated for a moment.

"Well... I don't suppose so... Just this once, maybe..." Despite his best efforts, he felt his face heating up.

"...Darrian?"

"Yes, Miralena?"

"Thank you." Darrian gave her a confused look.

"For what?" Darrian found himself growing even more flustered as she leaned into him more.

"Just for being here."

Some time later...

Darrian jumped as thunder boomed loudly overhead, jarring him from his peaceful slumber. He glanced up at the sky, ignoring Miralena's groan of protest at his sudden action. Lightning streaked across the night sky, lighting everything up brilliantly for a brief second.

"Darrian... Wha-"

"There's a storm coming... We'd best get back into the forest a bit. At least the trees will give us some protection from the rain." He responded. Miralena's response was to lean into him even more.

"Let it come, then... I don't feel like moving." Darrian rolled his eyes, gently prying himself from her grip and standing up, with some effort. Next time, he wasn't going to fall asleep sitting up. He now had pain in his lower back, along with his other injuries.

"Well, if you want to sit out here and get rained on, that's your choice. But I'm going back where it's dry." As he said this, a small drop of rain fell and hit him on the head. That one drop was apparently the messenger of doom, however, as the bottom had fallen out before Darrian had even reached the treeline.

"Hey! Don't just leave me here!" Miralena called after him, getting up and running after him as the rain poured ferociously.

"Maker's breath, where did all this come from?" Darrian exclaimed, not caring if he woke Duncan or not. He shook his head like a dog, water spraying everywhere from his wet hair. Miralena, meanwhile, was busy removing her braids, her black hair falling down to the sides of her face and sticking to her skin slightly from the wetness.

"And here I am without a brush..." Miralena pouted, running her fingers through her hair. Darrian merely scoffed at her, not even bothering to fix his. He laid down on the ground, back propped up against a fallen tree.

"A hairbrush should be the last of your concerns right now. Do these freakish storms always come out of nowhere like this in Highever?" He asked, still getting wet despite the adequate tree cover. Miralena sat down next to him, grimacing slightly at the feeling of the mud.

"These storms happen often in Highever, yes... But this is nothing compared to the rainy season. During those days, you'd best keep yourself inside unless you absolutely have no choice." Darrian ran a hand through his wet hair, slicking it back to keep it out of his face.

"Remind me never to visit Highever when I take a break from killing darkspawn, then." Miralena laughed into her hand softly.

"Oh, there are better things in Highever than the rains... It's honestly a fair trade-off. Highever is a very nice town." She replied. Darrian raised an eyebrow.

"Even nicer than Denerim? Excluding the Alienage, of course." He asked.

"Yes, I think so," Miralena responded. "Denerim is fine enough with its splendor, that much is true. But it just simply doesn't have the... Homely qualities that Highever has. Granted, I don't think I'll be returning there for a long time... Especially not since... Well, you know." Miralena stared at the ground, crossing her arms as tears threatened to spill once more. Darrian mentally kicked himself.

"So, uh, how do you feel about becoming a Grey Warden? I know it wasn't by your choice, but..." Darrian asked, quickly trying to change gears in their conversation, away from the oh-so-touchy subject of Miralena's entire family being murdered.

"I... am a little unsure, to be perfectly honest. Every child dreams of becoming one of them, of course, but... I am simply not sure that such a life is for a person like myself. I may have been trained to fight by my mother, but facing a darkspawn is... Different, so the stories say." She replied. Darrian nodded solemnly.

"That may be the case, but I figure they'll still die if you stab 'em enough. And that's what I plan on doing. Sod the consequences." Miralena laid her head back against the tree, shivering slightly. The rain was cold, and the fact that they had no way to warm themselves wasn't exactly helping.

"It's so cold... I suppose Fergus isn't much better off than we are right now." Miralena gave a half-smile as she mentioned her brother. The last thing she had told him was "Have fun on the long march. In the cold rain." Little did she know, she'd be out in it herself.

Darrian scoffed at her, also shivering a bit.

"Fergus is probably in a warm army camp somewhere, blissfully happy with a tent to keep him dry while his sister and her companions freeze to death in the elements. All because of that one noble's treachery. I ought to hang the crooked-nosed bastard myself..." He mumbled, grinning maliciously as his mind's eye suddenly envisioned the Arl of Amaranthine... Suffering as he was impaled on pikes while simultaneously being prodded in the stomach with red-hot fire pokers.

"Yes... Well... Irony is a bitch, no? The last thing I told my brother before he left was for him to have fun with the army out here in the rains. How fitting that we end up out here as well." Miralena said, wrapping her arms around herself. She shuffled a bit closer to Darrian, though whether it was unconsciously because of the cold or not, neither could tell.

"Don't swear. It's not becoming of a lady... Maker, I don't know how many times I've told my cousin that. She never did quite listen, either." Darrian remarked. He glanced over to find that Miralena was again staring at him intently, her eyes holding that curious tint they had had almost ever since they had met.

"You've a cousin, do you?" She asked. Darrian nodded.

"Yes. Two of them, in fact. Soris and Shianni, respectively. Though, I wouldn't exactly call them "just family". Shianni was like a sister to me, Soris a younger brother." He replied.

"And I take it this Shianni swears a little more than is appropriate?" Miralena prodded. Darrian laughed heartily, though it only lasted for a second or two as the pain in his ribs flared up again.

"Ouch..." Darrian clutched at his ribs again, though his face still carried a smile despite the pain.

"I'd say that's the biggest understatement in the history of Thedas, Miralena... But you've gotten me in a good mood, so I'll humor you. Yes, just a little more than what's considered appropriate for women. And men. She also has a bit of an addiction to alcohol..." Darrian smiled, fondly remembering his cousin, who was still back at the Alienage, most likely wondering what he was up to. His cousin, who had gotten him so drunk once that he didn't even want to see the light of day for half a week. His cousin, who had been violated and brutalized by Vaughan because of his incompetence-

Darrian's train of thought stopped there, an angry and slightly saddened expression overtaking his intricately tattooed features.

"Darrian? What's wrong?" Miralena asked.

"Just... Change the subject or something. I don't want to discuss my cousin anymore." He responded. Miralena yawned again, leaning back further against the tree and staring up at the sky.

"All right... Guess we'd better get to sleep, no? Duncan will probably drag us off as soon as the sun rises." She said. Darrian did the same thing, closing his eyes.

"He'd better not... Not after all that's happened tonight."


	8. Chapter 8

"I'm guessing that would be Ostagar, correct?" Miralena asked as the group of three neared the ancient Tevinter ruin. A large tower stood high above everything else, almost blocking out the sun.

"Indeed. The king's army and all of Ferelden's Grey Wardens are camped here in the ruins," Duncan responded, staying a step or two ahead of Miralena and Darrian, who were both lagging behind slightly. "The king's forces have clashed with the darkspawn several times already, but this is where the bulk of the horde will show itself."

Darrian, for one, couldn't care less as Miralena and Duncan chattered on about the landscape. He was tired, hungry, and still wet from the rains, which hadn't let up much until they had reached Lothering. His armor was starting to chafe in... places... And he hadn't had a decent night's sleep since they had left the Cousland estates.

Darrian had been lucky enough to listen in on a few farmers talking as they passed through Lothering. Highever's men had passed through the little village just three days prior to them, which had surprised them all. Apparently they weren't very far behind Fergus after all, despite the ridiculous path they had taken through the Bannorn to avoid Howe's men.

They passed through a massive stone archway, the soldiers saluting them as they entered. They hadn't even taken more than two steps into Ostagar when a man rather ludicrously garbed in golden armor came walking towards them, flanked by two knights in heavy chainmail armor.

"Ho there, Duncan!" Duncan extended his own hand, barely managing to get his hand wrapped around the oversized plate armor the man was wearing.

"King Cailan! I wasn't expecting-"

"A royal welcome?" The king finished for him, a wide grin on his face. "I was afraid you were going to miss all the fun." The man's actions made Darrian want to gag. Was there a single decent noble in any nation out there? Even the sodding KING was a warmongering fool eager for glory and admiration!

"I heard you had found some new recruits during your travels. I take it these are the ones?" Cailan asked.

"Yes, your Majesty. Let me introduce you. This is-" Cailan merely waved Duncan off, stepping over to Miralena.

"No need for that, Duncan. You are Bryce's youngest, are you not?" He asked. Miralena nodded.

"Yes, I am indeed Miralena Cousland."

"Your brother has already arrived with Highever's men. But what of Bryce himself? Wasn't he supposed to arrive with Arl Rendon Howe's soldiers?" Cailan asked. Darrian raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he placed his ever-present 'I hate human nobles' glare upon the king.

"You mean to tell us that you haven't heard what's happened?" He asked. Cailan shook his head.

"No, information has been rather unreliable from the North. Duncan, what has happened?" Duncan crossed his arms behind his back.

"Teyrn Cousland and his wife are dead, your Majesty," Cailan's eyes widened in surprise as Duncan continued. "Arl Howe has shown himself a traitor, and overtaken Highever Castle. Had we not escaped, he would have killed us, and told you any story he pleased."

For once, the king seemed to be at a loss for words. He looked at the ground, his shocked expression slowly turning to one of anger.

"I... I can scarcely believe... How could he think he could get away with such treachery?" Cailan looked up, staring into Miralena's eyes. "I give you my word, as soon as we are done here, I will turn my army north and bring Howe to justice." Miralena raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms in a fashion similar to Darrian.

"...What kind of justice, your Majesty?" She asked. Darrian almost thought he saw a malicious glint in the king's eye as he spoke.

"He will hang. I know that will not bring your family back, but Howe will NOT profit from this. No doubt you wish to see your brother... Unfortunately, he's out scouting in the Wilds and likely won't return until after the battle." Miralena shrugged.

"I'm not exactly eager to tell him, your Majesty." She said.

"Of that, I have no doubt. All I can ask is that you vent your grief against the darkspawn for the time being." Cailan turned to Darrian next.

"I take it you are Duncan's second recruit, are you?" Darrian shook his head.

"First, actually. I was present at Highever Castle when the attack took place." He replied.

"Ah, I see. Well met. Might I know your name, friend?" Cailan asked. Darrian barked a laugh at Cailan's question.

"Friend? I'm no friend of yours, human lord." To his surprise, Cailan chuckled at his remark.

"Ah, I see you've found a live one, Duncan! Strange, considering how most of the other Wardens you command act." He said. Darrian ignored the reprimanding look Duncan was giving him.

"So, from where do you hail, Grey Warden?" Cailan asked.

"The city of Denerim, loosely speaking." Darrian replied.

"As do I! Though, seeing as you're an Elf, you must likely come from the Alienage. Pray tell, how is it there? Loghain and the town guard all but forbid me from going there to see for myself." Cailan asked, apparently happy to have found some sort of "common ground" with the Grey Warden recruit.

Darrian, however, shared very little of the king's enthusiasm. Very little meaning none whatsoever.

"I could go on for a while about how bad it is, but if you desire I can tell you the most recent tragedy that's happened there." At Cailan's nod, Darrian continued, momentarily forgetting who was around him. "Well, I don't want to bore you with a story right now, so perhaps this will sum it up: Just a few days ago, I killed an Arl's son for raping my cousin."

The area soon became so silent, one could even hear a pin drop. Everyone stared at him in complete and total shock, minus Duncan, who had already known about the incident.

"You... What?" Cailan asked, sounding slightly incredulous. Duncan quickly stepped in.

"Your Majesty, I would not have been so blunt. There are events that have taken place in Denerim that you should be aware of." He said. Cailan took a step back, apparently still in shock.

"So I see... Well, at any rate, I'd best get back to camp. Loghain eagerly awaits to bore me with his strategies." Cailan said, turning about with his guards. "Hail, Grey Wardens." Duncan and Miralena bowed and curtsyied respectfully, while Darrian merely watched the man clad in the ridiculously extravagant armor walk away.

"What the king said is true. They've won several battles against the darkspawn here." Duncan spoke, breaking the silence. Darrian ignored his mentor for the moment, walking further into the ruins. He was eager to explore the army camp, possibly get a new set of armor that actually fit, and begin preparing for the Joining.

"Perhaps this isn't truly a Blight at all, Duncan. Just a large raid, as Fergus told me before he left." Miralena remarked, Duncan shook his head, motioning for her to walk beside him.

"So some believe, but I disagree. Despite the victories, the darkspawn horde appears to grow larger with each passing day. I know there is an Archdemon at the root of this... But I cannot ask the king to act solely on my suspicions." Darrian, who had stopped at the beginning of the bridge and was now leisurely leaning against the stonework and staring off into the Wilds, scoffed loudly at Duncan's explaination.

"You could, if the man wasn't such a sodding fool, that is. Did you see the way that arrogant ass strode up to us? With that ridiculous golden armor and those soft hands-"

"Silence, Darrian. You must not speak of the king so," Duncan was unusually forceful in his reprimand this time, surprising both Darrian and Miralena. "He is... Over-eager, perhaps, but he is also one of the few Grey Warden allies we have in Ferelden." Miralena leaned up against the stonework beside Darrian.

"What would you have the king do at this point exactly, then, Duncan?" She asked.

"Wait for reinforcements from the Grey Wardens of Orlais. I would also suggest we have Redcliffe's forces join us. Unfortunately, King Cailan refuses to wait for either, so we must do what we can, and wait for Teyrn Loghain to make up the difference." Duncan replied.

"So what are you going to have us do for our Joining, Duncan? I'd like to go ahead and get started." Darrian asked, obviously eager to shift the conversation's focus from the king to more important matters.

"Yes, we should begin the ritual. But for now, feel free to explore the camp here as you wish. All I ask is that you do not leave it for the time being."

"And that's it?" Darrian asked. Duncan shook his head.

"There is another Grey Warden in the camp by the name of Alistair. When you are both ready, seek him out and tell him it's time to summon the other recruits." He replied.

"Other recruits? So we aren't the only two you have?" Miralena asked.

"No, there are others, who you will meet sooner rather than later. But until then, I have business I must attend to. You may find me at the Grey Warden tent on the other side of this bridge, should you need to." And with that, Duncan began walking across the bridge, leaving Darrian and Miralena to their own devices.

"So..." Miralena began. Darrian didn't even bother to look at her as they began walking after Duncan, allowing the older man to gain some distance between them.

"So... What?"

"What you said to the king earlier-"

"You heard it well enough for yourself, didn't you? Yes, now you know the reason why I hate nobles. And no, I don't want to talk about it." Miralena took a step away from Darrian. Obviously the subject was still too recent for him to even consider giving her the full story.

"What are you planning on doing once we get into camp?" Change of subjects once again. Miralena was beginning to get good at that, Darrian noted.

"First thing I'm doing is getting rid of these tight leathers. If nothing else, maybe I can find a set in a bigger size... These things feel like they were made for a dwarf. Afterwards, I guess I'll grab a hot meal or something... Then maybe go seek out this Alistair fellow that Duncan mentioned." Miralena felt her face heat up as her stomach decided to enter their conversation with a loud rumbling noise. The mere mention of a hot meal was enough to make her mouth water somewhat. And, indeed, they hadn't actually eaten a "proper" meal since their journey from Highever, instead living off of vegetables and bread and Maker only knew what else Darrian was able to steal from taverns and the like.

"You obviously agree with me, too. Or your stomach does. Anyway, we'd better pick up the pace... I'd like to have this "ritual" taken care of before the darkspawn start showing up." Darrian said.

Some time later, Darrian found himself standing by a blazing camp fire, warming himself for a moment. Despite it still being day time, the forest was cold. Very cold. Several off-duty soldiers were emulating his idea, warming themselves as they chattered on. Some were complaining about the cold, others about being away from their families; but there was one thing everyone within the camp were thinking about in unison: their enemy. The darkspawn.

Deciding that he had lounged around enough, Darrian decided to set off in search of Alistair. He grinned as he heard the armor he was wearing clatter with every movement. It was a set of heavy chainmail armor, made from grey iron. Darrian had gotten it from the camp armorer, whom he had intimidated to the point of wetting himself after he had rather typically confused Darrian for just another Elf running around camp delivering messages. All it had taken was for Darrian to trade in the leathers he had been wearing.

It hadn't taken long before he heard a seemingly one-sided, heated argument going on to his right.

"Haven't the Grey Wardens asked more than enough of the Circle?"

"I simply came to deliver a message from the Revered Mother, ser mage. She desires your presence?" Darrian came closer, deciding to get a better look at the two men taking part in the spectacle. One was obviously a mage, as was evidenced by his staff and the robes he wore, and was rather ugly at that. The other was a blonde man, wearing splintmail armor with a sword and shield strapped to his back.

"What "Her Reverence" desires is of no concern to me. I am busy assisting the Grey Wardens, by the king's orders, I might add!" The mage argued.

"...Should I have asked her to write a note?" The man wearing the armor asked.

"Tell her I will not be harrassed in this manner!"

The two continued bickering back and forth before the mage finally relented, storming off in a huff and shooting Darrian a nasty glare as he stomped by, leaving just the Elf and the soldier standing there. The man in the armor turned to him, taking a few steps in his direction.

"You know... One good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together." He said. Darrian crossed his arms.

"...You are a very strange human." He retorted. The man gave a quick chuckle at that.

"You're not the first person to tell me that. But really, think about it... It's like a party. We could all just stand around and hold hands. That would give the darkspawn something to think about." Darrian closed his eyes, an amused smirk taking over his features as he envisioned the ruins being surrounded by monsters, all of them dumbfounded as the soldiers in the camp held hands and danced about, some singing and others throwing flowers at the advancing horde.

If nothing else, Darrian had to appreciate the man's sense of humor. Somewhat, at least.

"Say, you almost look familiar... You wouldn't happen to be another mage, would you?" The man asked.

"And I'm sure that would absolutely ruin the rest of your day, wouldn't it? But no, don't worry. I'm no mage." Darrian replied. The man seemed content with that.

"Less being yelled at for me, then. Though the day is still young... Wait." The man's eyes widened slightly as some apparent realization struck him in the face. "I do know who you are. You're one of Duncan's new recruits. The Elf from Denerim, right?"

"That's right. And I guess that makes you Alistair, correct?" Darrian asked.

"Did Duncan mention me? Nothing bad, I hope. Anyway, as the junior member of the order, I suppose it's my duty to help you prepare for the Joining. What of the other recruit Duncan brought with you? The one from Highever?" Darrian shrugged.

"No clue. We went our separate ways after we entered the camp. But I suppose she'll turn up soon enough... Duncan mentioned that there was more recruits running around here in the camp. Do you know anything about them?" He asked as they began to walk off in the direction of the Grey Warden encampment, where Duncan said he would be.

"Daveth and Ser Jory, yes. A cutpurse and a knight, respectively." Darrian raised an eyebrow.

"Why the hell would a cutpurse be offered a place as a Grey Warden? I thought you people were supposed to be some ridiculously honorable set of warriors, not a refuge for thieves." Alistair smirked at him.

"And you actually believe what everyone tells you? Not that I'm surprised, some people here still believe the old tales of the Grey Wardens being ten feet tall with lightning bolts shooting out of their eyes." Darrian scoffed loudly at that. The reputation of these people obviously preceded them... Either that, or there was some very stupid people out there.

With everything that was wrong with the world, Darrian was betting on the latter.

Elsewhere...

Miralena stood in front of one of the tents in camp, a sad expression on her face as she stared at the banner in front of it, which was marked with the heraldry of the Teyrnir of Highever. She couldn't help but feel worried about her brother, who was out there somewhere in the Wilds with just a handful of men. It figured he'd be out when she actually had something important to tell him.

She had had a busy time in the camp, that much was true. Miralena had met an Ash Warrior or something, had told the kennel master that she'd look for a flower to help his hounds were she to go out into the Wilds, and had even managed to get one of the guards to give up part of his dinner in order to feed a hungry prisoner. In return, said prisoner had given her a key, one that Miralena dared not touch with an uncovered hand, as it had... Been through a cycle, of sorts.

Unaware of where she was going, Miralena was startled slightly as a rather loud, gruff voice yelled at her.

"Halt!" Looking up, Miralena found that she was standing just outside a rather large tent. The heraldry of the Teyrnir of Gwaren was hanging just above it. "You approach the tent of Teyrn Loghain! State your business!" Miralena blinked a few times, before finally getting an idea. Loghain Mac Tir happened to be a hero of her's, after all, with all the stories her father had told her about the Orlesian occupation.

"I'd like an audience with the Teyrn, please." Her tone was calm, even, and persuasive. The soldier that had stopped her looked thoughtful for a moment, as if contemplating her request. Finally, he spoke.

"I suppose you must have a message for him, then. Very well. Wait here." He said, entering the tent.

Mere seconds later, what looked more like a massive wall of metal plate armor than a man came stomping out, a fierce look on his face. The armor had obviously seen some use, that much was true, as it didn't blind her as Cailan's had, but it was still a fine set worthy of a Teyrn.

"Yes, what is it? Ah, you must be one of Duncan's new Grey Wardens." Loghain stopped directly in front of Miralena, forcing her to look almost straight up in the air at him. Maker's breath, the man was tall!

Getting over her momentary shock, Miralena decided to speak, lest he merely have her thrown out.

"Yes, well... I'm not exactly a Grey Warden just yet." Her answer did nothing to change the stoic look on Loghain's face.

"You impressed his Majesty nonetheless. He simply could not stop talking about you or the other one Duncan had brought with him." His tone sounded as though he were moderately annoyed at Cailan's behavior. Nevertheless, he continued.

"So, you don't even know if you'll be fighting alongside the rest of your fellows in this battle or not, do you?" Miralena shrugged in response.

"I've no idea. Darrian probably wants nothing more than that, but I am unsure if we will actually see any combat."

"Then go and tell this Darrian that if Cailan has his way, both of you will." Loghain replied, sounding rather ominous. "Regardless of how inexperienced the two of you may be."

"I... I will. Thank you, Teyrn Loghain, it was an honor to meet you." Miralena said, curtsying respectfully. Loghain crossed his arms, giving one of his trademark grunting snorts.

"You know, you're pretty for a Warden." His words carried no flirtatious tone, but they still caused Miralena to blush.

"My lord is very kind. Thank you." She mumbled.

"One of the first Grey Wardens Maric allowed back into Ferelden was a woman. One of the best fighters I've ever seen. Don't let anyone tell you that you don't belong." And with that, the Teyrn disappeared back into his tent.

"So... That argument I saw. What was it about?" Darrian asked as he and Alistair continued searching the camp for Miralena and the other man they were supposed to find. Daveth. Ser Jory had been found standing with several other soldiers listening to a Chantry priest prattle on. Daveth and Miralena, however, seemed to have disappeared.

"Oh. With the mage?" Alistair's face took on a slightly disgusted expression. "The Circle of Magi is here at the king's request, and the Chantry doesn't like that one bit. They just love letting the mages know how unwelcome they are... Which puts me in a bit of an awkward position. I was a templar at one time."

"So you were a mage-hunter, were you? That would be awkward." Darrian replied. Alistair gave him a quick look.

"Well, not that that's all templars do. But yes. I never actually got around to being a real "mage-hunter", though. Duncan recruited me before I took my final vows." Darrian nodded.

"I see."

"Thing is, the mages around here seem to know exactly who is and isn't a part of the Chantry, and even though I'm not a real templar, they still lump me in with the rest of them. And I'm pretty sure the Revered Mother knew that. She meant it as an insult when she sent me to deliver the message, and the mage obviously picked up on it. Ordinarily, I wouldn't have agreed to deliver it, but Duncan says we're all supposed to get along around here... Though I don't believe the mages received the same speech."

"Apparently not. Neither did the armorer here in camp. Confusing me for a servant... But, I did get this set of armor from him after I threatened to... Well, I'm not sure you want to know exactly what was said." Darrian said. Alistair shook his head.

"No, I don't believe I do."

When they reached the Grey Warden camp once again, they found Miralena standing next to a large pyre with two other men, one being Ser Jory. But Darrian's attention was more on the man wearing the leather armor that was standing behind Miralena, and he couldn't help but feel a moderate pang of irritation that grew the more he observed the man. He was a rather typical-looking human male, hair cut short and unshaved stubble covering his face. What got Darrian the most, however, was the little smirk the man wore on his face as he chatted happily with Miralena. Suddenly, Darrian wanted to do nothing more than go over and wipe the smirk right off his face-

Darrian stopped himself, unaware than his hand had been clenched into a fist so tightly that the heavy chainmail glove covering his hand creaked slightly in protest.

"There you are, Daveth. We've been looking all over for you." Alistair spoke, breaking the silence.

"Yeah... Was wonderin' when you two were gonna show up. Anyway, seems we got all the recruits here. Me and Miralena here were just getting to... Know each other better." Darrian gave the man a withering look, which unfortunately went unnoticed.

"Hello there. I guess you found Alistair, right Darrian?" Miralena asked.

"Yes, that would be me. And you're Miralena, correct?" Alistair asked.

"Correct, handsome. A pleasure to meet you." Alistair chuckled nervously. He then motioned to Daveth.

"Uh, Darrian, this is Daveth, the... Fellow from Denerim I told you about. Daveth, this is Darrian Tabris, also from Denerim." Darrian stepped forward, holding a hand out to Daveth, who clasped forearms with the Elf after a moment in the traditional greeting of comrades in arms.

"Pleased to meet ya, Darrian... Quite a grip ya got on ya there, Elf." Daveth ground out the words, barely managing to keep a grin on his face, which looked more like he was baring his teeth.

"What can I say... I'm not pitifully weak like the other Elves you've probably met." Darrian gestured to the two-handed blade strapped to his back before releasing Daveth's forearm, who quickly wiggled his arm back and forth with a pained expression, attempting to get the blood flowing once again.

"Jory, where's Duncan?" Alistair asked, noticing that the senior Grey Warden was still nowhere to be found.

"He returned to his tent for a moment. I suspect he'll be back any minute now." Darrian ignored the knight's two cents, still glaring at Daveth. There was just something about this man that he absolutely did not like.

"Alright. The rest of you go get ready to head out while he's gone. We won't be going far out, so we don't need a lot of things. Just a few poultices and the like should be fine." Alistair announced. Darrian merely leaned up against the stonework beside Miralena. The ritual was still sounding strange to him, as even Alistair had kept him in the dark in a similar fashion to Duncan.

_Hopefully things will start making sense after all this is over... Right?_


	9. Chapter 9

"Damn wolves!"

Darrian roared angrily as he impaled the last of the beasts he was faced with, silencing its snarls for good. He wiped a mixture of sweat and blood off of his face with the back of his gauntlet, though he only truly succeeded in smearing the blood around. He looked back to find that the others had finished the remainder of the pack that had assaulted them. Darrian pointed the end of his blade at Alistair, a frustrated look on his face.

"You and Duncan better put the blood we take to good use, Alistair. I'm going to be pissed off if this is just a test of our survival skills." Alistair held up his arms in the typical "I Surrender" fashion, unconsciously taking a step back.

"You heard Duncan, Darrian. This is an important part of the Joining, so let's just get it over with." Miralena countered. Darrian gave a grunting snort at the young noblewoman's words, sheathing his blade on his back.

"I'll believe that when I see it. Let's move it."

Indeed, Darrian had not been happy from the moment they had left the warmth of the camp for the freezing forest in search of darkspawn blood for the Joining, as well as some old treaties he couldn't care less about. Duncan had still refused to tell them just what the Joining entailed, leaving the Elf somewhat bitter and angry at his mentor. Duncan had kept up the secrecy since they had left Denerim, and Darrian thought it was high-time the old crone started filling them in on certain things.

Mud squished loudly beneath his heavy chainmail boots as he walked at the head of the group, Alistair close behind him. Since their first encounter with a pack of straggling darkspawn, they had somehow elected Darrian to be the leader of the group, which he had accepted, though somewhat reluctantly.

Alistair seemed to be reliable enough, and thus far was the only one to really try asking Darrian about what he had done to become a Grey Warden recruit. The man seemed kind enough, with a good sense of justice, and even Darrian could find no fault in the man's good humor, despite staring a potential Blight in the face.

Ser Jory had also seemed reliable enough, through the first five minutes or so of their foray into the Wilds, at least. Then they had come across an entire squadron of soldiers that had been brutally killed and hanged from a dead tree spanning the gap between two rocks, and instantly the "brave knight" had turned into a coward, using any excuse he could think of to attempt to turn the group about. Darrian had called him as such, and an evil cackle along with the words "I'm looking forward to killing these things" when the group questioned the Elf had unnerved the knight further and set them off on the path to the old Grey Warden outpost.

Daveth was the other member of the group Darrian absolutely couldn't stand. He had met enough of Daveth's kind in Denerim, nothing but poor street rats who joined gangs of bandits around the city and robbed honest civilians of their hard-earned sovereigns. Darrian himself had been robbed by their kind once or twice when he was younger, which made the "fellow" especially vulnerable to the Elf's rage. The fact that he continued to hang around Miralena only made things worse, for some reason. There was just something about that cocky smirk the man wore that irritated Darrian to no end.

"Something about all this is makin' my nose twitch... It's not right." Daveth whispered.

"Right or not, we're all stuck in the moment now. May as well see it through to the end." Miralena responded.

"Daveth! Miralena!" Darrian's voice caused them both to jump and stand at attention, only to find that the Elf, Alistair, and Ser Jory were already leagues ahead of them. "Stop lagging behind! You can chat when we get back to camp!"

Alistair watched as the thief and the former noble began scurrying to catch up to them, surprisingly deep in thought. He didn't know what to make of Darrian Tabris. For an Elf that claimed to live in the city of Denerim his whole life, where Elves weren't allowed to bear weapons, he was a remarkable warrior... Much more so than Ser Jory, despite the fact that they both wielded similar weapons. He carried an aura of command for some reason, as though he was used to making decisions in his life.

On the other hand, he seemed to have an essence of cruelty and bitterness within, from what little Alistair had heard and seen, as well as touches of insanity and bloodthirstiness, as the entire group had seen when they had questioned him about his desire to face the darkspawn. Overall, Alistair figured he could trust the Elf... Though he would keep his distance, at least a little. The Elf seemed to be quick to anger, and he was actually rather scary during those times.

He knew little of Miralena, however, aside from her being Teyrn Bryce Cousland of Highever's youngest child, and that was just what Duncan had told him. Still, her father must've taught her fairly well, as she knew how to wield both sword and shield respectably. Whether she could best him in a duel, Alistair didn't know. But she could handle herself against wild animals and straggling darkspawn well enough, and Alistair trusted Duncan's judgment. He had obviously seen something in all of those he was currently traveling with.

"That bridge there will lead us to the ruins Duncan wants us to check out. And it looks like the darkspawn sent out the welcome party, too." Alistair remarked. Darrian winced slightly, trying to make out what was on the other side of the bridge. Standing there was a single darkspawn, but it looked much different than the short ones they had encountered, and there was a few distinct differences between this one and the other human-sized darkspawn they had encountered, which Alistair had described as Hurlocks. This one wielded a staff adorned with feathers and other such things, and was wearing head gear of some sort that was adorned with razor blades and bones which fanned out in a circle behind its head.

"What the hell is that ugly thing?" Darrian asked, observing the creature in further detail as the others began crowding in behind him.

"Looks like another of those tall ones Alistair was telling us about." Miralena remarked. Alistair's eyes widened upon realizing what kind of darkspawn this particular one was.

"It's an Emissary! Get out of the way!" As soon as he said this, the thing pointed its staff at them, a large fireball launching from the tip of it and sailing across the bridge towards them. Everyone scrambled for safety as the fireball hit the ground, exploding in a brilliant flash of light and sending a shockwave through the ground, causing it to rumble.

"Daveth! Kill that thing!" Darrian yelled, coughing as he fanned some of the dust the fireball had kicked up away from his face. Daveth notched an arrow, taking quick aim and letting it fly in the Hurlock Emissary's direction. Sadly, the arrow fell short of the head, as everyone in the group had hoped for, but it did bury itself in the darkspawn's shoulder, causing it to run away.

"We'd better get across the bridge, before that thing decides to come back." Darrian said, dusting himself off.

"But what if it decides to come back? I don't really want to have magic thrown at me again." Miralena asked, looking down at herself in a disgusted manner. She had landed right in the mud when she had thrown herself to the ground, and the entire front of her leather armor was now covered in the stuff.

"I'm with you on that... I don't want that monster turning any of us into toads." Daveth remarked, fiddling with his bow. Darrian rolled his eyes at this. He had heard of some mages having the ability to shapeshift into different types of animals, from the books he had read in Alarith's store back in the Alienage, but the rumor that they were able to turn other people into toads was apparently just that. A rumor with no truth to it.

Alistair cleared his throat loudly, getting the attention of the group.

"I think I should be the one to handle it should it return. Darkspawn or no, the thing is still a mage, so my templar talents will likely make me the most effective against it." He said. Darrian made a broad, sweeping gesture with his hand in front of Alistair, bowing slightly in a mocking fashion.

"Ladies first, mighty templar." He said. Alistair merely grinned at the Elf.

"I do happen to be quite fetching in a dress, you know... Still, you've pretty much led us competently thus far. Why fix what simply isn't broken?" He asked. Darrian shrugged, stepping out onto the bridge.

"Suit yourself." Miralena grinned, walking up to Alistair as they began to cross the bridge.

"Fetching in a dress, are you, Alistair? I think I'd like to see that sometime." She remarked. Alistair rolled his eyes.

"Hmm... For you? Maybe. But it has to be a pretty dress." He replied. Miralena laughed into her hand.

"You are a very strange man, aren't you?" She asked.

"So your companion up there keeps telling me, anyway. And you're not the first woman to tell me that, either." Alistair replied.

"Bastards!" Darrian's shout causted them to look up just in time to see the Elf behead a rampaging Hurlock, who was at the front of a small group of three more darkspawn, plus several Genlock archers. Alistair was about to sprint over and assist Darrian, when out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Emissary from a moment ago stalk out of the trees, blood dripping from the wound Daveth had inflicted upon it.

"You three go and assist Darrian. I'll take the Emissary." Alistair said before sprinting off in the disgusting creature's direction, leaving Daveth, Jory, and Miralena to help Darrian deal with the others.

Darrian planted an armored boot in the chest of one of the Hurlocks, using its momentum against it and sending it crashing to the ground. Another attempted to take his head off, only to have the pommel of Darrian's blade slam into its chest and slam it to the ground as well. Darrian stabbed downwards, the heavy sword easily cutting through the darkspawn's shoddily crafted armor and pinning it to the ground. The third Hurlock was felled by one of Daveth's arrows, which protruded from the creature's neck. Despite his dislike for the man, Darrian had to give him credit when it came to archery. He tended to hit the mark... Most of the time.

Darrian freed his blade from the mud in time to see Miralena stab through the heart of the darkspawn he had kicked to the ground seconds ago. Ser Jory had begun assaulting the archers, managing to kill two of the archers despite being hit several times by their arrows. The last archer attempted to flee and gain some distance on them, only to be killed as Daveth launched several arrows into its back.

Miralena glanced over at Ser Jory, who staggered over to them uncomfortably, arrows sticking out of his chainmail.

"Are you injured, Ser Jory?" She asked. The knight shook his head in response.

"No, milady... But might you consider assisting me? I'd rather not walk about with these arrows stuck in my armor." Miralena nodded, gripping the shaft of one of the arrows and yanking it free from the chains. Darrian chuckled at the knight's luck. Not one of the arrows had actually pierced his flesh.

Alistair returned just then, covered in the blood of the Emissary he had killed.

"You're all uninjured. That's good... The ruins are just over the crest of this hill." He said, pointing at the path leading up.

"Any more darkspawn up there?" Darrian asked, running a gauntlet-covered hand through his hair. Alistair shrugged.

"No idea. I can't see the entrance. Just part of the ruins." He replied. Darrian sighed. How many more of the creatures would they have to kill before they finally got the scrolls?

"We still need to get the blood... Think you can take enough from one of these bodies, Alistair?" Miralena asked. Alistair tossed his pack on the ground, digging into it and finally pulling out the glass vials from the bottomless pit within.

"I'm not sure about these, but if nothing else, the Emissary should provide the rest. Here," Alistair paused, handing each member of the group a vial. "If everyone helps out, we'll be out of this place that much quicker."

Darrian knelt down next to the corpse of one of the Hurlock, its blood having pooled around its body thanks to the killing blow it had received. He removed the cork from the vial before dragging it along the ground, scooping up the blood of the dead darkspawn. He grimaced as he heard the blood hiss and sizzle loudly as it touched the glass. So what Alistair had said was true... The blood of these creatures really was poisonous. The blood bubbled within the vial as Darrian placed the cork back into the neck of it, which he watched in morbid fascination for just a moment. The mere look of it sent a chill up his spine, and he wondered slightly if the vial was even strong enough to contain the blood properly.

Darrian stuffed the vial into his pack, deciding to hold onto it for a while. He sheathed his blade, walking back to the others, who had harvested their own darkspawn blood. Miralena had a slightly disgusted look on her face, while Daveth and Ser Jory both looked slightly unnerved.

"Come on. Let's get those documents and get out of this forest. I'm freezing my arse off." Darrian ordered.

Thankfully, the trip up the hill was uneventful, until they came to the ruins, at least. Standing there was a slightly larger group of darkspawn, each of them being of the Hurlock variety. There was one in the center wearing slightly more ornate armor than its counterparts, as well as a horned helmet which covered its entire face. It was obviously the leader of the little entourage of darkspawn that was facing them.

"Well... This isn't good." Alistair remarked. Darrian merely drew his blade, already knowing what was about to happen. More tainted blood would be spilled, it seemed.

Wanting to get the upper hand, Darrian charged the "leader" of the darkspawn, swinging his blade in an upward arc from his hip. The Hurlock merely pivoted its foot, effortlessly dodging his strike and simultaneously unsheathing the two curved steel blades from its back before assaulting him. Darrian managed to twist himself around slightly and avoid the first strike, which would've run him through, but the second strike sliced deep into his heavily armored left shoulder, the force of the blow cutting into the grey iron and denting it slightly. Darrian slammed the pommel of his blade into the Hurlock Alpha's chest, cracking its armor in return and pushing it back. Darrian glared at his opponent as it regained its balance.

This was going to be a hard fight indeed.

Miralena slammed her shield into the body of her opponent, the heavy piece of metal bearing the heraldry of the Cousland family knocking the Hurlock flat on its arse. She quickly followed up by slicing downwards with her family's sword, only to have it rebound off of the Hurlock's own shield. Briefly stunned by the sudden shock, she jumped back to survey the small battlefield for a moment.

Darrian was further up the trail, heavily engaged with the darkspawn leader. The two were completely balanced out, the darkspawn being much quicker than Darrian, though the Elf had a ridiculous advantage in terms of strength. Alistair and Ser Jory were caught up fighting three opponents at once, and Daveth was... Nowhere to be seen.

Miralena glanced around herself wildly, temporarily ignoring her enemy. Daveth had literally disappeared... This was something she half-expected of Jory, not the thief.

A hard blow to the face quickly brought the young noblewoman back to reality, just as her back hit the ground with a dull thud. Her vision blurred, her entire face burning with pain. The arse of a darkspawn had repaid her for her non-lethal attack by slamming its own shield right into her face.

Miralena cursed under her breath, suddenly feeling lightheaded. Her mother had taught her to defend herself, that much was true... But for the love of the Maker, why hadn't Eleanor taught her how to take a hit?

Her vision finally returning, Miralena looked up to find the Hurlock standing over her, blade at her throat. She gulped loudly, slowly feeling around the ground for her blade. Her fingers finally found the hilt of her family's sword...

...Just as a longsword sprouted from the Hurlock's chest, splattering tainted blood all over her and the ground. The darkspawn roared in pain, but was quickly silenced as a second blade ran across its throat, brutally slashing through the creature's jugular. The darkspawn fell to its knees, grabbing at its neck as blood spurted from the open wound obscenely before it finally fell on its face and died. Miralena looked up to find Daveth standing over her, that ever-present smirk on his face as he offered her a hand.

"Need a lil' help there, beautiful?" He asked. Miralena smiled up at him, taking his hand and dragging herself up to her feet.

"Boy, am I glad to see you..." Miralena began. Daveth chuckled.

"It ain't often I hear stuff like that from pretty women like you. Methinks I'll bask in it for a while."

Darrian grunted in frustration, backhanding the Hurlock Alpha he was fighting. The battle was dragging on a little too long for his tastes... Though he still hadn't managed to get a real hit in.

"Damn you, why won't you just lay down and die?" Darrian asked the darkspawn, slamming the pommel of his blade into its chest again. This time, he heard something crack, and the Hurlock roared in pain, temporarily distracted. Deciding to seize the chance, Darrian brought his blade up and slashed vertically, from his right shoulder to his left hip. Blood sprayed from the darkspawn's body like a fountain as it was sent spinning in a loop, crashing to the ground as its blades flew out of its hands, landing on the ground a ways off, forgotten.

Finally.

Darrian panted heavily, his entire upper body rising and lowering with every breath. He had just felled a rather mighty darkspawn... Though he wondered why the one he had just slain was apparently commanding the others. Perhaps they only listened to those of their own kind who proved to be stronger than the others. Or maybe the darkspawn had their own society and ruling class, and those such as the Hurlock Alpha and the others were their versions of nobles...

His mood soured slightly as he thought of that. Was there one sodding nation on the face of Thedas, darkspawn or no, that didn't have a bunch of fat, inbred bastards in command of them?

Alistair and the others walked up to him after the battle was over.

"Well, should we go get those treaties already? I'm ready to get back to camp and grab something to eat." Daveth remarked, eliciting a giggle of sorts from Miralena. Darrian had to admit, it was rather odd for the man to be thinking with his stomach at the moment, but nevertheless he gave the thief a quick nod, sheathed his blade, and led the group into the ruins. It was empty, but there was a chest at the other side of the ruin. Everyone jogged over to the chest to find that it was broken open, with nothing inside. Darrian knelt down next to it to peer inside, muttering every curse word he knew as he scanned the inside thoroughly. Nothing.

The chest was absolutely empty. They had trekked all this way for nothing.

"Well, well... What have we here?" The sudden, new voice caused Darrian's head to shoot up, banging into the upper part of the chest. He swore loudly, gripping his head as he looked behind him. Standing there was a woman, a rather scantily dressed one, at that. She was very beautiful, purple eyeliner heavily covering her face over her golden eyes. She had black hair, which was tied up into a bun of some sort, and the rags the woman was wearing left very little to the imagination. Darrian stood and stepped up as the woman began sauntering over to them, studying each of them in detail. Upon closer inspection, Darrian noticed that the woman had a staff on her back, which made her out to be a mage of some kind.

"Are you a vulture, I wonder? A scavenger, poking amidst a corpse whose bones were long since cleaned? Or are you merely an intruder, come into these darkspawn-filled Wilds of mine in search of easy prey?" The woman stopped several feet away, glaring at the group. Darrian placed a hand on Miralena's shoulder, pushing her out of the way gently as he stepped out, proving that he was the leader of the group.

"Well? What say you? Scavenger, or intruder?" The woman asked, her patience apparently wearing thin. Darrian merely crossed his arms, head cocked to the side in curiosity. Why had this woman appeared out of nowhere? More importantly than that, why had she decided to accost them?

"Intruder, you say? And just how exactly are these your Wilds, woman?" Darrian asked, countering her question with one of his own. The woman gave an evil smirk as she looked at him, placing her hands on her hips.

"Because I know these woods as only one who might own them would. Can you claim the same?" Darrian furrowed his brow. The woman ignored his glare, walking past them.

"I have watched your progress for quite some time... Where do they go? Why are they here? These are the questions I asked myself... But in time, your movements provided the answers." The woman leaved up against a pillar, looking back at them.

"Shall I guess your purpose? You were searching for something within that chest, something that has long since been taken?" Darrian glanced up at her, unsure of what to say.

"Don't answer her," Alistair whispered, walking up to Darrian. "She looks Chasind... And that means others may be nearby." The woman, who had apparently heard Alistair, shuddered in mock fear.

"Ooh, you fear barbarians will swoop down upon you?" Alistair glared up at her.

"Yes... Swooping is bad." He muttered.

"She's a Witch of the Wilds, she is. She'll turn us all into toads!" Daveth's voice. Again, Darrian had to roll his eyes. What was it with these people and being turned into toads?

"Witch of the Wilds? Hmm... Such idle fancies, those legends. Have you no minds of your own? Truly?" Ignoring the others, the woman motioned towards Miralena. "You, there. Women do not frighten like little boys. Tell me your name and I shall tell you mine. Let us be... Civil." Miralena glanced over at Darrian, feeling slightly unsure of herself before finally stepping forward.

"I am Miralena, a Grey Warden recruit... A pleasure to meet you, miss." She said. The woman raised her eyebrows, having apparently not expected such a greeting.

"Now that is a proper civil greeting, even here in the Wilds!" The surprise was evident in her voice. "You may call me Morrigan. Now," Morrigan crossed her arms, glaring at the group once more. "I will repeat my question. You sought something within that chest, something that is here no longer?"

"'Here no longer'? You stole those documents, didn't you? I was right, you're... some kind of... sneaky... witch thief!" Alistair accused.

"Smooth, Alistair." Darrian commented dryly.

"Yes, I thought so too." Morrigan, however, failed to see the humor in Alistair's words.

"How very eloquent. Tell me, just how does one steal from dead men?" She asked, staring at Alistair inquisitively.

"Quite easily, apparently. But those documents happen to be property of the Order, and I suggest you return them." Alistair demanded. Morrigan gave a slight huff at his words.

"I will not, for t'was not I who removed them. Go ahead, invoke some name that means utterly nothing here any longer. But I am not threatened." She responded. Miralena raised an eyebrow.

"You weren't the one that took the papers? So does that mean you know who did?" She asked, arms crossed. Morrigan mimicked her posture.

"T'was my mother, in fact." Came the response.

"Can you take us to her, then? We must have those documents." Darrian asked. To his surprise, Morrigan gave a slight smile.

"Now there is a sensible request... I like you." Darrian shifted, unsure of how to respond to that.

"I'd be careful, Darrian... First it's 'I like you', but then 'Zap!' Frog time." Alistair whispered. Darrian growled in frustration, giving Alistair a glare.

"I've just about had it with you people and these stupid frog ideas!" He said.

"Enough! Follow me, if it pleases you." Morrigan said. Darrian ignored the others, marching off to follow Morrigan.

"She'll put us all in the pot, she will! Just you watch!" Daveth warned. Miralena sighed.

"If the pot's warmer than this forest, I believe it'll be a nice change." She said. Ser Jory mumbled an agreement.

Some time later...

Morrigan led the group to a hut, deeper into the Wilds. Standing outside was an old woman, much older than Darrian was expecting.

"Greetings, Mother. I bring before you a group of Grey Wardens, who-"

"I see them, girl." The old woman said, cutting her off. "Hmm... Much as I expected." Alistair chuckled at that.

"Are we supposed to believe you were expecting us? Really?" He asked.

"You are required to do nothing, least of all believe. Shut one's eyes tight... Open one's eyes wide... Either way, one's a fool." Darrian stared at the old woman intently. This meeting was turning less interesting and more insane by the moment.

"She's a witch, I tell you! We shouldn't be talking to her!" Daveth whispered, though it was loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Quiet, Daveth!" Jory "whispered", sounding just as loud as Daveth. "If she's really a witch, do you want to make her mad?" The old woman gave a very convincing cackle at that.

"Now there is a smart lad... Sadly irrelevant to the larger scheme of things, but it is not me who decides. Believe what you will." The old woman stepped forward towards Darrian, who took a step back in alarm at the sudden action.

"What about you? Does your Elven mind cause you to think differently? Or are you just like the rest of these humans?" Darrian scoffed, not understanding what it was the old woman meant.

"I'm no fool, if that's what you're asking, old woman." He replied. Another cackle.

"With an answer like that, I believe I know all there is to know!" She then turned to Miralena.

"And what of you, girl? Does your woman's mind give you a different viewpoint? Or do you believe as the rest of these boys do?" She asked. Miralena raised an eyebrow.

"I'm... Not sure what to believe, to be honest." She replied. The old woman took a step back, staring at her.

"A statement that possesses more wisdom than it implies. Be always aware... Or was it oblivious? I can never remember." The woman's face took on a more solemn expression.

"So much about you and this Elf is so uncertain... And yet I believe. Do I? Why, it seems I do!"

"So... This is a dreaded Witch of the Wilds?" Alistair asked. The old woman's face took on an amused expression.

"Witch of the Wilds, eh? Morrigan must have told you that. She fancies such tales... Though she would never admit it. Oh, how she dances under the moon!" The old woman gave another cackle, much to her daughter's embarrassment. Darrian sighed in exasperation.

"Argh! We don't have time for this." Darrian placed his glare on Morrigan's mother. "I believe you have something we need, old woman."

"They did not come to listen to your wild tales, Mother..." Morrigan remarked. The old woman gave a grunt of agreement.

"True. They came for their treaties, no? And before you begin complaining, your precious seal wore off long ago, Grey Wardens. I have protected these." Darrian snatched the scrolls from the old woman's hand.

"It's about time." He muttered, looking them over. Miralena chuckled nervously, stepping forward.

"Er... What my friend meant to say was, thank you for returning the documents." Darrian glared at the young Cousland, but said nothing.

"Such manners! Always in the last place you look... Oh, never mind me. You have what you came for!" The old woman said.

"Time for you to leave, then." Morrigan said. The old woman gave her a reprimanding look.

"Don't be ridiculous, girl. These are your guests!"

"Oh. Very well. I will show you out of the woods... Follow me." Morrigan sounded very bored at that point. Darrian followed after her, leading the group of Grey Wardens once more.

They arrived back at camp in a very short amount of time. Morrigan knew quite a few shortcuts through the forest, it seemed. The first thing they did was seek out Duncan in the Grey Warden camp.

"Ah, you return from the Wilds. Have you been successful?" Duncan asked as they approached him. Darrian held out the scrolls and his vial of darkspawn blood for the older man to take. Every other recruit also held out their vials, each filled to the brim with the tainted blood.

"I believe actions speak louder than words, dear mentor." Darrian remarked. Duncan gave a slight chuckle at that.

"Indeed they do, Darrian. I've had the Circle mages preparing while you were gone. With the blood you've collected, we can begin the Joining immediately." He said.

"So will you tell us what this Joining entails now, Duncan?" Miralena asked. Duncan's expression became grim.

"I will not lie, we Grey Wardens pay a heavy price to become what we are. Fate has decreed that you make this sacrifice now, rather than later." He replied.

"Well, let's get on with it then! I'm anxious to see what it's about." Daveth said.

"I agree. Let's have it done." Jory added. Duncan gave Alistair a look.

"So it is decided... Alistair, take the recruits to the old temple."

Darrian glanced about the temple as they entered it. It was completely empty, save for a table and a large chalice which sat atop it.

"The more I think about this Joining, the less I like it." Darrian, Miralena, and Daveth all furrowed their brows in irritation. Again?

"Are you blubbering again, Jory?" Daveth asked, apparently fed up with the knight's cowardice.

"Why all these damned tests? Have I not earned my place?" Jory asked.

"Maybe it's tradition. Or maybe they're just trying to annoy you." Daveth replied. Darrian fixed the knight with a glare.

"Are all of you humans such cowards? I'm sick of your complaining." He said matter-of-factly. Miralena also gave a heavy sigh.

"Outside of Darrian, I swear I'm the bravest one here. And I'm a woman." She added. Jory ignored them both.

"I only know that my wife is in Highever with a child on the way. If they had just warned me... It just doesn't seem fair."

"Would you have come if they'd warned you, Jory? Maybe that's why they don't do that sort of thing. The Wardens do what they must, right?" Daveth asked.

"Does that include sacrificing us?" Jory asked. Daveth gave a heavy sigh.

"I'd sacrifice a lot more than this if I knew it would end the Blight." Darrian crossed his arms, giving Daveth a curious glance. For once, the man had said something worthy of praise.

"Impressive statement, Daveth... And you make a good point. If this is truly a Blight, I'm pretty sure all of us here would do whatever it took to end it." Miralena turned to Jory.

"You saw those darkspawn yourself, Ser Jory... Wouldn't you die to protect your wife and child from them?" She asked. The knight gave her a look.

"I..."

"Maybe you'll die." Daveth interrupted him. "Hell, maybe everyone standing here'll die. But if nobody stops these darkspawn, then we'll all die for sure."

"I've just never faced a foe I could not engage with my blade." Jory said, hanging his head.

"At last, we come to the Joining..." Everyone looked back to find Duncan walking over to the chalice.

"The Grey Wardens were founded during the first Blight, when humanity stood on the verge of annihilation." Duncan picked up the chalice, walking over so that everyone could get a good look at what was contained within. Darrian's eyes widened at the liquid bubbling within. It was the darkspawn blood they had collected.

"We... We're going to drink the blood of those... Those creatures?" Jory asked. Darrian and Miralena both gave a disgusted look at the contents. Such a thing simply didn't sound very healthy.

"As the first Grey Wardens did before us, and as Alistair and I did before you. This is the source of both our power and our victory."

"Those who survive the Joining become immune to the taint. We can sense it in the darkspawn, and use it to slay the Archdemon." Alistair explained.

"Survive or not survive, I'm tired of waiting. Let's move on to the sodding main event already!" Darrian snapped. Duncan nodded.

"We speak only a few words prior to the Joining, but these words have been said since the first. Alistair, if you would?" Duncan requested. Alistair proceeded to recite a rather long speech that sounded as if it had come right out of a poetry book of some sort. When he finished, Duncan lifted the chalice.

"Daveth, step forward." The thief stepped forward, taking the chalice from Duncan and lifting it to his lips. After drinking his share of the blood, he handed the chalice back to Duncan. Everyone stepped back, staring at Daveth curiously.

At first, nothing happened. But after a mere second or two, Daveth doubled over, gripping his head with a cry of pain before looking up. His eyes had rolled into the back of his head.

"Maker's breath!" Jory practically shrieked. Miralena took a step back, eyes wide, while Darrian managed to keep his cool, standing alongside Alistair. Daveth clawed at his throat before collapsing to the ground, flailing about for a moment before finally becoming still.

"Is... Is he..." Miralena breathed, looking over at Darrian and Alistair, who merely shook their heads sadly.

"I am sorry, Daveth." Duncan muttered, looking down into the chalice before turning to Jory, who had already begun stepping back.

"Step forward, Jory." Jory drew his blade as Duncan stepped closer.

"But... I have a wife. A child! Had I known-"

"There is no turning back." Duncan's voice was completely monotonous. He reached for the dagger that was sheathed on his back.

"No! You ask too much! There is no glory in this!" Jory babbled. He took a swing at Duncan as he drew closer, only to have his blade parried and swiftly knocked away. Duncan then proceeded to run the poor knight through with the dagger, eliciting a scream from Miralena and a gasp from Alistair. The event even unnerved Darrian somewhat, as he stared down at the knight who had fallen to the ground, blood pouring from his body in rivers.

"I am sorry..." Duncan muttered, reaching for the chalice once again. "But the Joining is not yet complete. Darrian Tabris... Step forward." Darrian felt Miralena clamp a hand down on his arm, and upon glancing at her, the Elf could clearly see the worry in the young noblewoman's eyes. He gave her a small nod before stepping over to Duncan, who held the chalice out for him to take.

"You are called upon to submit yourself to the taint for the greater good." Darrian took the chalice, staring down into the dark red blood.

"So be it, then..." And with that, Darrian brought the chalice to his lips and drank deeply. The texture of the blood added to the disgusting feeling of the situation. It was similar to gelatin mixed with the chewiness of burnt beef. The taste was much worse than even the strongest of alcoholic beverages, though a hardcore drunk might actually appreciate the strength of it were he in Darrian's shoes. The blood burned terribly as it went down, once again making Darrian question why his cousin Shianni enjoyed things similar to this. And the smell... The smell was far worse than the most disgusting cesspool ever created, so much, in fact, that it made a field freshly covered in manure smell like a bouquet of flowers fit for only the greatest queen in Thedas by comparison.

Unable to take any more of it, Darrian gagged violently, swallowing one last mouthful of the disgusting blood before handing the chalice back to Duncan, coughing violently for a moment before calming. At first he felt absolutely nothing at all. As soon as he opened his mouth to speak, however, pain wracked his head, starting out as what felt like a minor headache but rapidly getting much, much worse. Darrian placed a gauntlet covered hand to his forehead, eyes shut tight. Finally, his body suddenly went completely rigid, his eyes rolling into the back of his head in a similar fashion to Daveth. He stumbled forward, losing the feeling in his limbs and falling flat on his face, succumbing to the blackness.

Miralena stared down at the Elf lying at her feet, eyes wide. Had Darrian just... Died in front of her?

"He's not... Oh, Maker, please tell me he didn't just..." She stuttered, finding herself at a loss for words. Alistair knelt down next to Darrian's unmoving body, pressing two fingers down and feeling for a pulse. He finally nodded, a smile on his face.

"He's still alive... He'll awaken in good time, once he sleeps it off." Miralena sighed in relief. At least all of the others hadn't died. Her relief quickly turned to worry once again as Duncan held the chalice out to her, expressionless. Miralena took the chalice without a word, raising it to her lips and drinking from the blood. Blackness soon overtook her, as well as the vision of a dragon of some sort.

Some time later...

Miralena jumped slightly, her eyes fluttering open as she returned to the world of the living. She found herself staring up into the faces of Duncan and Alistair, as well as the sky.

"It is finished. Welcome." Duncan said, helping the groggy noblewoman to her feet.

"Two more deaths..." Alistair said grimly. "In my Joining, only one of us actually died, but it was... Horrible. I'm glad a few of you made it through, at least."

"How do you feel?" Duncan asked. Miralena shook her head softly, feeling a bit of a headache coming on.

"I'm fine... But what about Darrian?" She asked.

"He lives, though he awoke some time ago and ran off, saying he required some air to clear his head. I suspect he went to the battlements." Duncan replied.

"Did you have dreams? I had terrible dreams after my Joining." Alistair asked. Miralena gave him a curious look.

"Such dreams come when you begin to sense the darkspawn, as we all do. That, along with many other things, can be explained in the months to come." Duncan explained. Alistair reached into his pack, grabbing something out.

"Before I forget, there's one last part to your Joining." He placed the object in Miralena's open hand. She looked down to find it was a pendant, which appeared to have been filled with some kind of red substance.

"We take some of the blood you and your comrades drank and put it in a pendant. Something to remind us of those that didn't make it this far." Miralena nodded understandingly, wrapping the pendant around her neck.

"Take some time to clear your head. When you are ready, go and find Darrian. I'd like you both to accompany me to a meeting with the king." Duncan said. Miralena nodded.

"Very well."

"The meeting is to the west, down the stairs. If you cannot find Darrian, then please come alone. And attend as soon as you are able." And with that, Alistair and Duncan walked away, leaving Miralena to her own devices.

Miralena ran a hand through her hair, grimacing at the feeling of the dirt and blood that had matted up in it. Suddenly, she wanted to do nothing more than take a long bath. Though she didn't want to say anything to Duncan, she felt physically sick to her stomach. Though it was much worse than simply ingesting a piece of rotten food.

It hadn't taken her long to find Darrian. Sure enough, he was exactly where Duncan had said he would be, seated directly on the edge of the battlements with his back resting against a stone pillar, one leg dangling off the side carelessly while the other was drawn up to him, bent slightly at the knee. His body was illuminated ever so slightly by the giant burning pyre that was close by, the firelight reflecting off of his armor. His sword was laying next to him, close by as always. He was fiddling with something in his hands, though Miralena couldn't tell exactly what it was. Darrian appeared to be completely oblivious to the world around him.

"Hey." Darrian didn't even acknowledge her. He continued thumbing the object that was in his hands, almost lifelessly. Miralena stepped closer, sitting down. Upon further inspection, she found that what he was playing with was a pendant almost exactly the same as the one Duncan had given her.

"Darrian... Are you feeling okay?" Miralena asked, moving his blade with some effort before sitting down next to him. The Elf continued to thumb the amulet for just a few seconds longer before speaking, his tone quiet and monotonous.

"I... I drank the blood of those... Things. I actually drank... This..." Darrian trailed off, continuing to play with the blood that was encased within the glass. Miralena sighed, wrapping her right arm around him and resting her head on his shoulder. She felt him tense up and half-expected him to withdraw, but he finally relaxed, even leaning in on her slightly.

"I understand... I'm not happy about it either. Nor do I feel all that great. Do you feel sick to your stomach?" Miralena asked.

"A little... My head is pounding. I've... Never experienced something quite like this." Darrian replied. He shuddered visibly, though Miralena had no real idea as to what was going on in his head.

"I... I've never truly come that close to death before. Never... The pain that blood caused... It was almost unbearable... Unbelievable... And the vision..." Darrian trailed off. Miralena tightened her grip on his shoulders, pulling him closer to her.

"But it's over now. At least the vision told us one thing... Duncan was right. This is a true Blight after all. And for what it's worth, the two of us are now Grey Wardens." She said.

"Honor-bound to defend the entirety of Thedas against the darkspawn, the duty that cannot be forsworn... All that garbage. I understand what we're supposed to do... Now I'm just wondering if it's truly worth it to just throw our lives away fighting... Monsters..." Darrian sighed heavily, resting his head on top of Miralena's.

"It doesn't always have to be like that... Not for me, at least. Provided we win the battle, and I still live, I can only hope Duncan will let me march with the king's army to retake my home." Miralena said. Darrian glanced down, continuing to finger the pendant, his Warden's Oath, so Alistair had called it.

"If it comes to that... I'll march with you. Provided I'm still alive, myself." Miralena paused, looking up into his grey eyes in surprise. She could see something in his eyes... A faint glowing effect that she hadn't seen before. Was it because of the taint now coursing through his body?

"You..." Miralena trailed off. She hadn't expected to hear that. Not from him, at least.

"Surely it's not that surprising. I... Truly, I've got nowhere else to go, except back to that Alienage. My family may be there, but there's a whole world out here at my fingertips, just waiting for me to see. Without the Grey Wardens, I'd just be a wanderer. And, as you are well aware, I've been betrayed by the high and mighty noble lords myself. It's only fair if I be there to make sure that disgusting bastard gets his." Darrian explained.

"I... I don't know what to say. I..." Miralena was quieted as Darrian placed a single finger to her lips.

"Then don't say anything at all. We shall deal with these darkspawn. Then, Howe will be paid in full for his treachery. Then... We'll see." The two sat there in silence for a moment longer, before Miralena decided to speak up again.

"Duncan told me to have you come with me to a meeting with the king. They're discussing the strategy for the battle." Darrian sighed, planting both of his feet on the stonework once more and standing up, dragging Miralena up with him.

"Let's go see what these boring nobles have to say, shall we? I wouldn't mind getting a nap in before everything starts up." 


	10. Chapter 10

"Loghain, my decision is final! I will stand by the Grey Wardens in this assault!" Darrian heard Cailan's voice as he and Miralena approached the table where all the heads of the army were meeting to receive their orders.

"You risk too much, Cailan! The darkspawn horde is far too dangerous for you to be playing hero on the front lines. We must attend to reality!" The argument between the two most powerful men in the army at that moment continued on for some time, with Darrian ignoring a vast majority of it. Their strategy didn't truly concern him.

"...So these are your newest Grey Wardens, Duncan? The young lady from Highever and the Elf from Denerim? I believe congratulations are in order." Cailan said. The mentioning of the word Elf brought Darrian back to reality.

"We're not exactly that special, your Majesty." Miralena smiled at the king. Cailan chuckled.

"Oh, but you are! Every Grey Warden is needed now, you should be honored to join their ranks." Cailan and Loghain continued going over the strategy for the battle, which Darrian barely listened to.

"...Send Alistair and Miralena to the tower. They can light the beacon." Cailan said. Miralena looked slightly disappointed at Cailan's decision.

"I won't be fighting in the battle?" She asked.

"We need the beacon. Without it, Teyrn Loghain's men won't know when to charge." Duncan added. Cailan smiled at her.

"You see? Glory for everyone!" And with that, the meeting was concluded. Duncan began leading Miralena and Darrian back to the Grey Warden camp.

"So I'm to be sent off on some miscellaneous errand with a man I barely even know while you and Darrian run off to fight the darkspawn? Why does it feel like I choked on that blood for nothing?" Miralena asked. Darrian ran a hand through his hair. The girl had surprised him by wanting to take part in the battle, and in a way he understood how she felt. Darrian himself had been almost deathly afraid of somehow being assigned to perform some menial task instead of throwing himself at the darkspawn; he had found that he could handle them fairly well in the Wilds and now wanted nothing more than to kill as many as he possibly could.

"Maybe Cailan realizes that you could be the last of the Cousland family, Miralena. That might be why he's attempting to keep you out of the battle." Darrian remarked. Miralena glanced over at him somewhat blankly; she hadn't thought of that.

"Darrian has a point, Miralena. Should we win the battle, someone must be alive to take charge of Highever when the king turns his armies North to bring Arl Howe to justice. With no certainty that Fergus remains alive, the title of Teyrna could possibly fall to you once everything is said and done." Duncan explained. "Regardless, King Cailan has ordered you and Alistair to ascend the Tower of Ishal to light the beacon, and you will do so despite your personal feelings on the matter." Miralena stared down at her feet, Duncan's words breaking her resolve to argue on the matter any longer. Darrian patted her on the shoulder.

"Don't worry about it, Miralena. Tell you what, I'll bring you back a necklace made of fingers or something from the darkspawn I kill, if all goes according to plan." Darrian chuckled evilly at his own words, causing both Duncan and Miralena to sigh in exasperation.

"I feel so taken care of..." Miralena said, sarcasm dripping from her words. "T'is a sweet thought, Darrian, but a necklace made of bloody, severed fingers is... Not a gift befitting a lady. Of any stature." Darrian scoffed at her words.

"Suit yourself. Just don't say I never tried to do anything nice for ya."

They arrived in the midst of the Grey Warden tents a short distance later, finding Alistair by the giant pyre from earlier. Duncan proceeded to fill him in concerning Loghain's strategy. As was expected, the blonde didn't take his role in the battle very happily either.

"But Duncan, why won't I be in the battle?" He asked.

"This is by the king's personal request, Alistair. If King Cailan wishes for Grey Wardens to be there, then it will be so." Duncan replied. Alistair sighed heavily.

"Fine, I get it... But just so you know, if the king ever asks me to put on a dress and dance the Remigold, I'm drawing the line. Darkspawn or no." He said. Darrian raised an eyebrow, leaning up against a piece of stonework leisurely.

"You have some odd ideas about the king, Alistair. Truly." He remarked.

"I happen to be quite fetching in a dress, you know..." Alistair said. Darrian merely shrugged.

"Hey, if that's your thing... Still, the king does seem to be a strange sort. Maybe he fancies that sort of thing. Who's to say what really goes on in the royal bedchambers?" He asked. Duncan merely shook his head.

"The two of you will cross the bridge and go to the top floor of the Tower of Ishal. We will signal you when the time comes to light it. Alistair will know what to look for. From then on, stay with Teyrn Loghain's men and guard the tower. We will send for you if you are needed." The senior Grey Warden explained.

"And where will you be, Duncan?" Alistair asked.

"I will be fighting beside the king, as will Darrian. Again, at his personal request." Duncan replied. Darrian gave the two of them a quick salute.

"...What if the Archdemon I keep hearing about appears?" Miralena asked.

"We soil our drawers, that's what." Alistair replied. Duncan's expression was far more grim than Alistair's.

"If it does, leave it to us. This goes for you as well, Darrian. I want no heroics from any of you." Miralena looked over at the bridge with a slightly bored expression on her face.

"Very well... I suppose we should get to the tower, Alistair." Duncan gave a nod of agreement.

"Since you've no further questions, Darrian and I must go and join the others."

"Duncan... May the Maker watch over you." Alistair said.

"May He watch over us all." Came the response. And with that, the group of Grey Wardens split up, Darrian following Duncan off of the battlements and down to the fortifications Cailan's army had built.

Thunder boomed overhead ominously, as the first raindrops fell in what would soon become a raging storm. Darrian stood atop the hill with Duncan and King Cailan, looking down at the army that had assembled. Everything was deathly quiet, aside from the Chantry priests that stood below, uttering the Chant of Light as they walked with incense to bless the blades of the soldiers.

"The plan will work, your Majesty." Duncan said. Cailan gave a chuckle.

"Of course it will... The Blight ends here!"

Darrian sucked in a breath, staring off into the trees as the thud of what sounded like a million men's boots against the ground penetrated the silence of the moment. After what seemed like an agonizing eternity, the frontline of the darkspawn finally began to stalk out from beyond the treeline.

The sheer size of the horde was enough to make Darrian second-guess his hasty decision to throw himself into the midst of the creatures. The depth of the horde extended far beyond the visible ones standing on the front, that much was obvious, though Darrian had no clue just how many they were facing. Several enormous, horned creatures with purplish skin tones were within the horde as well, towering over all the other darkspawn. They had brought Ogres with them.

Everything then seemed to be happening at a lightning quick pace. One moment the horde was just standing there; the next, they were charging directly at them. The Fereldan Army had then proceeded to throw everything at the darkspawn, from arrows and crossbow bolts to Mabari war hounds, and finally the king gave the order for his men to charge.

Darrian looked over to Duncan, who merely gave him a nod of acknowledgment. It was time. The Elf watched briefly as the two massive walls of humans and darkspawn slammed into each other before following Cailan and Duncan off of the platform to join the battle.

Elsewhere...

Miralena and Alistair watched from their perch atop the bridge leading to the Tower of Ishal as the fighting commenced below them. The purple giants - Ogres, as Alistair had called them - began hurling rocks at the battlements where they were, in an attempt to destroy the ballistas the humans had set up atop the bridge.

Miralena followed one boulder's path with her eyes, watching as it sailed over the bridge and slammed into one of the smaller towers, demolishing it rather spectacularly.

"We'd better hurry up and cross the bridge, before those things bring it down." Alistair suggested. Miralena took one last look over the side of the bridge, taking a final glance at the great horde they were facing. She couldn't help but feel a measure of concern for Duncan and Darrian, who were both down there somewhere in the midst of the creatures.

Getting across the bridge was fairly difficult, as pushing past a great deal of archers and siege equipment while the ground was constantly moving beneath their feet as huge boulders slammed into the bridge was no easy feat, but the two Wardens managed to make it to the other side safely. As they continued up the path, they were met by a soldier and a mage.

"Maker's breath... You're... Grey Wardens? The tower, it's been taken!" The soldier reported, breathing hard. They had apparently ran a long distance.

"What are you talking about, man? Taken how?" Alistair asked.

"The darkspawn came up out of the ground... It's complete and utter chaos in the tower. Most of our men are dead!" The mage replied. Miralena unsheathed her blade, adjusting her shield on her left arm.

"Looks like we don't have much choice, Alistair... We'll just have to get up there and light it ourselves." She said, stalking off in the direction of the Tower of Ishal. Inwardly, Miralena felt happy that she would actually be taking part in the battle, instead of putting a torch into a huge pile of sticks and lighting a fire.

The entire path leading up to the tower's entrance was swamped with darkspawn, finishing off a few more soldiers that had stayed behind in an attempt to keep them trapped within the tower. With the help of the mage and the soldier, Miralena and Alistair managed to carve a path through the beasts, all the way up to the courtyard just outside the tower.

Miralena wiped her face with the back of her hand, sweating lightly as she gazed down at her most recent kill. Her blade had managed to remove the Alpha's head by way of a lucky swing, but it had been a hard-fought battle. Alistair had been right about them; there was a reason why they commanded the other darkspawn, after all, and it wasn't because they wore the "extravagant" tarnished yellow armor.

What she didn't understand, however, was how these darkspawn had managed to get so far ahead of the vast horde that Darrian, Duncan and the king were battling. According to the soldier they had come across, they had came from underground... Though Miralena knew nothing of any tunnels or anything of that sort lying beneath Ostagar. Could the darkspawn have created a tunnel network of some sort while they had been waiting for the horde to show itself?

Miralena shuddered visibly at that thought. Perhaps the darkspawn were smarter than Loghain gave them credit for. Or maybe Duncan was right, and an Archdemon was in fact leading the creatures, enabling them to perform tactical assaults.

Alistair took point at that moment, leading the four into the chaos that was once the Tower of Ishal. Barricades had been built and smashed aside, and fires were burning unattended as bodies littered the ground, both human and darkspawn, though there were much more of the former lying dead than the latter.

"Maker's breath..." Alistair remarked. Miralena walked into the center of the large room, disgust evident on her face as she examined the mutilated bodies in greater detail.

"Why would those things mutilate these men and women so badly?" She asked.

"As far as I know, the darkspawn are one big, happy family of cannibals. They eat the flesh of the dead." Alistair replied. Miralena shuddered again. Now she was certain she'd do everything in her power to survive the battle. There was no way she was going to die and become a snack for the darkspawn... Her family still needed to be avenged.

A few roars turned their attention to the other side of the room, just as more darkspawn decided to show up, along with a Genlock mage, of all things. Miralena sighed heavily, lowering herself into a fighting stance. It was going to be a long, long stroll to the top of the tower...

Another attack. Another roar of pain. Copious amounts of blood and gore. One more dead darkspawn to add to the kill-count.

This was the repetitive method of combat that Darrian had worked himself into as he remained close to Duncan and King Cailan, continuing to fight the darkspawn. Whether they were doing well or not, Darrian could not tell, as the fighting had begun to stretch out across a wide area of land, much too far for him to see from the ground level.

Darrian swung his sword once again, hacking off a Hurlock's arm as it charged him and sending the beast flying off to the side.

"Glorious!" Darrian heard King Cailan announce as he ran one of the creatures through with his ridiculously extravagant greatsword, splitting the Genlock in two and splattering tainted blood all over his equally extravagant armor. Darrian watched as one of the humans standing nearby had his head taken off by a darkspawn blade, splattering his blood all over the ground. Darkspawn and other soldiers were dying by the hundreds all around them, thick smoke blotting out the night sky, which had been tinted a reddish orange due to the darkspawn corruption.

Fool. There was nothing glorious about any of this.

The mere thought of it made Darrian's blood burn hot as he viciously slammed the pommel of his blade into a Genlock's skull, the heavy blade smashing the thing's cranium like an eggshell and liquifying whatever passed for a brain inside.

Ordinary men and women were fighting and dying for this arrogant ass of a king, having been dragged away from their wives, children, families and homes to take part in this battle, just so one noble could strut about and call himself a hero. It was sickening.

With that thought in mind, Darrian angrily cut down another darkspawn as it ran at him. He had heard a few rumors, both in Denerim and in the army camp within Ostagar, from more than a couple different people that Cailan was, indeed, an imbecile, and that Anora was the one who truly ruled the nation while Cailan pranced about as a figurehead.

The fighting continued to drag on and on, long after Cailan had given the signal for the Tower of Ishal. Yet still the beacon had not been lit.

Darrian panted hard, gritting his teeth as he smashed another Hurlock to the ground, his sword crushing the creature's shoddily crafted shield and shattering the bones in its arm rather spectacularly. He watched as the men beside him continued to fall, overwhelmed by the sheer numbers of the darkspawn horde. Bit by bit, he found himself, Cailan, and Duncan being surrounded by the darkspawn, slowly but surely.

"Duncan! We must do something! These things are starting to surround us!" Darrian yelled at his mentor, backing away as two more darkspawn came charging at him mindlessly. He managed to avoid the first swing and knock his opponent down with a ferocious backhand, which put a dent in his left gauntlet, only to have the second mowed down by Cailan, who came barreling into it from the side. At least the king's ridiculous heavy golden armor came in handy as a battering ram, he mused.

Duncan cut down two more darkspawn that had assaulted him, taking his eyes off of the creatures for a split second in order to locate the fiery Elven Grey Warden.

"And the signal fire still remains unlit... Something is clearly amiss. Darrian, you must go and determine the cause of this." Duncan said, effortlessly ducking underneath a darkspawn blade before gutting the wielder. Darrian stared at him as though he had just grown a second head.

"What? I can't just leave you here with these things! Nor can I just toss the entire battle aside for this!" He argued. Duncan gave him a fierce look.

"This is not the time to argue! Someone must light the beacon, and if something has happened to Miralena and Alistair, then the duty falls upon you." Darrian sighed heavily, letting his shoulders droop. He suddenly didn't feel like arguing about the subject anymore... And Duncan had a point.

"Fine. Maker help those two if they're just goofing off or something..." And with that, the Elf began running away from the battle, trying to dodge past fighting soldiers and darkspawn and killing any of the latter that were simply unavoidable as he headed back up the path toward the Tower of Ishal.

"Just what have you and Alistair screwed up this time, Miralena?"

Meanwhile...

Miralena panted raggedly, gripping her injured arm tightly as she leaned up against the wall, watching Alistair and the others deal with the remaining darkspawn in the room. She'd had an unpleasant encounter with a Genlock Emissary within the tower, which resulted in some rather nasty spell slamming into her and wrenching her limb painfully... Which meant that she was now, for all intents and purposes, useless, lacking the ability to carry a shield and fight properly.

Alistair cut down the last of the party of darkspawn that had attacked them, looking further ahead. They were almost to the top. All they had to do was get up another flight of stairs and they'd be able to light the beacon and bring an end to everything.

"We're almost there, right? I can't... I can't take much more of this." Miralena remarked, slumping down against the wall further. Why did the darkspawn have to have magicians in their ranks? Things would be so much easier if they didn't. The Hurlock and Genlock were fairly weak, and even their more powerful variations were still manageable. But Miralena had little to no knowledge about the arcane arts, having found the stories rather boring, and she couldn't help but feel as if she were paying for her ignorance now.

"It's just up this flight of stairs. I'm sure of it. Can you walk?" Alistair asked, sheathing his blades and offering the young noblewoman a hand to steady herself, which was taken gratefully.

"I... I think so. Let's just hurry this up. I'd like to rest for a bit." Came the response. Alistair gave her a smile.

"Well, you know what they say about the weary and no rest... I forget how that one goes. Don't worry, we'll be fine. What's the worst that could be up there other than a few boxes or something?" He asked, leading Miralena and the two others they had up the stairs and opening the door.

As soon as they entered, the floor rumbled beneath their feet, as if a brief earthquake had just struck the tower. Loud crunching noises, accompanied by the wet, squelching sound of flesh being torn from a bone sent chills up Miralena's spine. Slowly, painfully slowly, the group turned to the side to discover the cause of the sounds.

Sitting there in front of a huge fire was an enormous... Thing, with purple-grey skin and giant horns. More crunching and chewing noises could be heard coming from its direction. It was eating something.

Miralena opened her mouth to scream, only to have Alistair clamp a hand across her mouth and silence her. This was what they had to face if they wanted to light the fire? A fucking OGRE?

"M-Maker's breath... What is that?" The tower guard asked, taking a few steps back towards the exit. He was obviously going to run if things took a turn for the worse. Miralena made a muffled noise of some sort as she tried to talk, only to have her words come out as one long sentence of quiet gibberish.

"It's an Ogre... Look, just be quiet while I think of something. This isn't something we want to just run up and tap on the head with our blades." Alistair responded.

His expression turned to one of great pain as Miralena bit down on his hand - more specifically, his exposed fingers. Quickly, he jerked his hand back, gripping his injured fingers with his free hand as he glared at Miralena.

"What was that for?" He whispered angrily. Miralena returned a glare of her own.

"You know perfectly well what that was for! I tried to tell you to get your hands off me, but you wouldn't listen!" She replied.

"Uh... Grey Wardens?" The mage started.

"Well, that doesn't give you the right to snap at me! Look, you even drew blood!" Alistair continued. Their faces were now mere inches apart from each other.

"It serves you right! That's what you get for not paying attention!" Miralena argued. Alistair sighed exasperatedly.

"I don't have to stand here and take this, you know! We've got a beacon to light!"

"Wardens-" The mage began again.

"Don't you walk away from me, Alistair! I'm not finished with you! Just who told you it was all right to go running around grabbing people like some perverted-"

A loud roar, accompanied by flying spittle, deafened everyone in the room and sent Miralena and Alistair scrambling back, both of them emitting a girlish scream. Standing there almost directly beside them was the Ogre, who had apparently sensed their presence moments before.

"Maker help me, I don't want to die!" The tower guard yelled, even going so far as to drop his crossbow as he ran off through the exit.

"Get back here, you coward!" The mage yelled, but it was futile. The bastard had already disappeared beneath within the lower levels of the tower.

Miralena stared up at the Ogre as it roared ferociously, spittle flying from its razor sharp teeth. She felt tears of frustration beginning to well up in her eyes as she lowered herself into an awkward fighting stance, being minus one arm. They had fought so hard to get to the top of the tower, only to likely end up being crushed to death by a huge monster. It was absolutely ridiculous.

Darrian continued running up the stairs, panting heavily as he did so. He had reached the Tower of Ishal not too long ago, but he had fought hard to get there. Darkspawn stragglers had blanketed the area leading to the tower, but it seemed as if they had yet to enter the actual tower itself.

He slammed the door in front of him open, continuing further into the tower. The building was quiet, aside from his own exertions, and that worried him. Bodies of both humans and darkspawn littered the area, some of the kills looking far more fresh than the others. Could Alistair be among them? And Miralena?

No. Darrian refused to believe that. They had to be within the tower somewhere.

As he neared the stairs leading to the third floor, he heard more footsteps coming towards his position. Skidding to a halt, Darrian darted into a nearby room, hiding his body within the doorframe, sword gripped in his right hand as he prepared his ambush. The footsteps came closer... Closer... And finally it sounded as if whoever it was was directly on top of him. Quickly, Darrian stuck his left elbow out of the doorway, bracing himself for the impact.

BAM! Whoever it was collided with his armored elbow, face first. Having momentarily stunned the unknown party, Darrian leaped from his hiding place, catching his opponent by the throat with his left hand and crushing them against the wall.

It was only at this time that he realized he had just snatched up a human. Blood was flowing from the soldier's nose thanks to his elbow attack, and he looked utterly terrified.

"Who are you, human? What happened here?" Darrian asked the man, his tight grip loosening slightly.

"The darkspawn... Came from the ground... The Wardens, they..." Darrian's eyes widened as he slammed the soldier against the wall again, his grip crushing the man's windpipe again.

"What about the Wardens? Where is Miralena and Alistair?" He asked. The soldier choked and sputtered, clawing at Darrian's hand in an attempt to get free.

"Top... Of the tower... Ogre... I ran-" BAM! Darrian slammed the man's body against the wall again, this time hard enough to dent the man's helmet. This man had abandoned his comrades because of his fear of battle?

"You left them with an Ogre? You're a coward!" Darrian accused, grey eyes burning bright with anger.

"Please... I want... To live..." Darrian released his grip before using that same hand to floor the soldier with a hard backhand.

"Cowards like you don't deserve to live, shem!" Darrian spat, planting a foot in the man's ribs as he attempted to crawl away, the force of the kick rolling the man over onto his back.

"Please... I'm just a-"

"You're just a deserter and a coward, no better than Vaughan Urien! And I gutted him like the pig he was..." Darrian glanced behind him. He had wasted enough time... It was time to get to the top of the tower. "You make me sick... I hope you die a gruesome death out there on the battlefield." And with that, Darrian darted off down the hallway, leaving the soldier to his fate.

At last, Darrian found himself below the doors leading to the very top of the tower. He paused to catch his breath for a brief moment, at least until he heard a loud roar come from above him, as well as the ceiling shaking as something slammed into it.

"Damn... I hope I'm not too late..." He panted, ascending the stairs. and opening the door.

Miralena gritted her teeth as she felt her back slam against the wall. This time, she didn't even bother trying to get back up. Alistair was in no better shape than she was at the moment, having felt the force of the Ogre's powerful blows as well. His right arm had been broken during the fight, forcing him to use his sword in his left hand instead, but he was now slumped against another wall, though she couldn't tell whether he was dead or just unconscious. Whatever the case, he was no longer moving.

She watched, helplessly, as the Ogre grabbed the mage they had with them, roaring in his face loudly before crushing the poor fellow with its large, powerful hands in an eruption of gore and crunching bones. It tossed the mangled corpse into the fire, roaring loudly once again.

Miralena let the back of her head rest against the stonework, staring up at the ceiling as pain continued to flow through her body. That last hit had probably broken something, she was sure, she just wasn't exactly sure what it had broken. Everything hurt. It hurt just to breathe, let alone do anything else.

"Where's Darrian when you need him..." She whispered to herself, feigning death as she watched the Ogre begin stomping back towards the fire, apparently going to finish its meal they had so rudely interrupted.

But the Elf wasn't there. Instead, he was busy fighting for his life alongside her Grey Warden mentor and the King of Ferelden against the darkspawn horde. Was he even still alive?

Her questions were soon answered, however, as thudding footsteps resounded through the large room, followed by a battle cry as a very familiar face charged recklessly toward the Ogre.

Darrian steeled himself, sword dragging the ground behind him as he neared the purple-skinned giant he was facing down. Ordinarily, he would've avoided such a creature like the plague, but, alas, the Ogre had somehow managed to fit its enormous ass into the tower despite the shorter height of the doors, and thus it was impossible to hide from or simply avoid.

The creature turned to challenge him, roaring angrily as it swung a ridiculously large fist at him. Darrian dropped to the ground, avoiding the powerful swing and sliding in between the Ogre's legs. Darrian quickly got to his feet, managing to swing his sword and score a somewhat shallow cut on its right hamstring before a massive foot slammed into him, sending him flying backwards. Darrian hit the ground with a thud several feet away, his sword clattering to the ground just in front of him.

"Damn it all... That was a hard hit..." Darrian said to himself, dragging his body up into a sitting position and shaking his head in an attempt to get the ringing in his ears to stop. It didn't work.

Darrian barely managed to get himself to his feet and throw his body out of the way as the Ogre barreled past him, almost goring him on the huge horns that were protruding from its skull. Unable to stop itself, the Ogre's momentum carried it completely to the other side of the tower, smashing into the wall and almost bringing the whole thing crumbling down. Its horns, however, ended up getting stuck in the stonework.

Seizing the opportunity, Darrian leaped up and grabbed his blade, charging the creature once more, though not without stumbling slightly thanks to the dinosaur-sized boot he had just been struck with. Once he was within range, Darrian leaped into the air as high as he could, the point of his blade facing forward. He drove the blade deep into the trapped Ogre's back, soon finding himself hanging from his blade, which was half-buried in the Ogre's body now. Tainted blood was spewing everywhere, covering Darrian entirely and turning the floor all around them a complete crimson red color. Darrian forced his weight downwards, causing the blade to slowly begin sliding down with him, slicing through the Ogre's thick hide and causing it to give a deafening roar of pain.

With a ridiculous show of power, the Ogre bucked angrily, tearing its horns from the stone. It reached back frantically in an attempt to dislodge the blade from its back. Failing to do so, it thrashed about for a bit, tossing the Elf hanging on its back about like a ragdoll before its panicked movements began to die down. The Ogre stumbled forward a bit before, naturally, falling backwards.

"...Oh shit." Was all Darrian could grind out before a ridiculous amount of weight crashed down upon him, the sword ramming through the Ogre's chest and finishing it off. He felt a few of his ribs bend under the crushing force of the Ogre's corpse as a great deal of pressure engulfed his whole body from the shoulderblades down.

Darrian swore heavily, finding that it had become much, much more difficult to breathe. The corpse of the Ogre was squeezing the very breath out of his lungs, not to mention crushing his entire body, minus his arms and his head, which were both free.

"Gotta get outta here..." Darrian wheezed, gritting his teeth hard as pain and constant pressure wracked his muscles, bones, and vital organs. "Somehow..." He looked over at Miralena, who was still breathing hard, eyelids half-open, her face a mask of pain mixed with worry as she looked in his general direction.

Darrian reached his hands out in front of him, feeling around for something, anything he could grab onto so he could free himself. If he remained underneath the corpse, he was a dead man. But any attempt of freeing himself was also risky. But he couldn't just lie down and accept a dishonorable death of being crushed beneath a smelly Ogre. Not when Miralena and Alistair still needed him.

Success! Darrian's fingers grasped part of the stone floor that had been cracked by the Ogre's weight, just large enough for him to fit the tips of his fingers into. Sucking in a difficult breath, Darrian braced himself before pulling his body forward with his fingers. Every fiber of his trapped body flared up in a rush of burning pain, tearing a sudden gasp from the Elf and alerting him to just how serious the situation actually was.

It was risky indeed, far more so than he had previously thought. His body was tightly wedged beneath the Ogre's corpse... Very tightly. One wrong move and he'd just end up snapping himself in two, from the spine down. And possibly in a literal sense as well. Even though he was being careful, just pulling himself forward would snap something... Like a rib, or, even worse, his spine.

Darrian ignored the risk. Like it or not, there was going to be pain involved either way, but he was dead for sure if he remained trapped under the Ogre. At least if he inflicted pain on himself by trying to get free, there was a small chance that he would survive.

His mind made up, Darrian continued to pull himself forward with all of his strength, bringing even more pain upon his body. He groaned loudly, which stopped as something snapped within his torso, causing him to take a sharp intake of breath and stop himself immediately. There went a rib or two, though he didn't know exactly if it had broken completely or merely cracked.

"Maker, just kill me..." Darrian ground out unintentionally. It felt as if his entire spinal column was about to snap like a simple rubber band.

And suddenly, just as he thought he was about to snap himself in two like a twig, Darrian felt the remaining part of his lower half dislodge itself from beneath the Ogre's girth. He collapsed on the floor, wheezing loudly as he stopped for a rest. He was free!

But he still couldn't figure out the extent of his injuries. His right knee was hurting badly and felt fairly loose... Likely wrenched or dislocated in some way. His entire back was burning angrily with pain from the pressure, as was his ribs, though some were far worse off than others.

Darrian turned his head to the side, looking at Alistair, who wasn't moving, and then at Miralena, who still looked rather out of it. Forcing himself up to all fours, he managed to crawl over to the young noblewoman over the span of about two minutes, almost collapsing in front of her. Thankfully, he managed to catch himself on the wall and spare himself from further harm.

"Fancy... Meeting you here, Darrian... What... What happened to the battle?" Miralena asked. Darrian coughed, squeezing his eyes shut as his torso flared up in pain.

"Duncan... He sent me. Told me... To find out why the beacon wasn't lit. Guess I found out..." He replied.

"Indeed... Can you stand? Because I don't think I can." Miralena asked. Darrian shook his head.

"I'm about to collapse... And it doesn't look like Alistair is going to be lighting the beacon either..." Darrian remarked.

Before Miralena could reply, Darrian suddenly jolted forward, still hanging onto the wall. She looked down to find an arrow protruding from the Elf's back, placed perfectly in a weak spot of his heavy chainmail. Still, he managed to look behind him to face his new attacker, just as four more arrows slammed into his torso. Darrian collapsed to the side, his blood pouring out of his new wounds.

Miralena watched in horror as the Elf lay unmoving, bleeding out on the floor. She reached a hand out to him, only to feel an arrow penetrate her studded leather armor and bite into her flesh as well. Strangely enough, the pain felt so far off...

Looking up, Miralena found that the darkspawn horde had entered the tower. What had happened? Had they... Lost the battle?

Before she could ponder such things further, however, the entire roof of the tower came crashing down. Something ridiculously large, almost bird-like in appearance, hovered there in the air. Miralena couldn't tell exactly what it was, only that it was so large it blocked out all the light in the tower.

A large rock from the ceiling cracked her in the head without warning, the force of the blow blurring and darkening her vision, knocking her body to the side, though she felt no pain from the force of it. Everything seemed so distant... Was she dying?

"Crushed... By a ceiling. This isn't... Wasn't..." Miralena mumbled. Indeed, this wasn't how things were supposed to be taking place. They were supposed to force the darkspawn back underground! She was supposed to march back up to Highever with the king's army and take back her home, avenge her family! Not die an ignoble death smashed underneath an Ogre's corpse or several hundred tons of stone!

Unfortunately, that seemed to be exactly what was about to happen. Miralena vaguely felt something wrap around her, only for a split second, before the darkness took over at last.


End file.
